She's here.

Our precious one arrived on March 24th 2013 at 9:05am. Labor and delivery were very rough on my and my recovery has been just as rough. I'll definitely leave out all the gory details but, in a nutshell, this is how she arrived.

Saturday, I spent the entire day telling myself she would never get here. I moped around the house after we went for a walk and finally decided to do some Just Dance 2 as a last ditch effort. I danced 3 dances and decided I'd had enough- rest was what I needed. And I laid on the couch the rest of the day completely wallowing in my own self pity telling myself she would never arrive on her own and I'd have to be induced. I didn't want to be induced because I wanted to contract and labor on my own.

For the past few weeks, we have been preparing for Layla's arrival in more ways than one. We put a waterproof matress pad on the bed and some trash bags on the couch (along with some towels) juuuussttt in case my water broke. Only 10% of women have their water break before labor so I wasn't overly concerned with it happening. But, you know, you can never be too prepared. Saturday evening we were hanging out on the couch and I was just about to look something up online when I felt a big POP in my belly that was different than anything else I'd felt before. I looked at Matt with, what I'm sure was a look of fear and said "something weird just happened". Matt looked at me and said "get off the couch! get off the couch!". I was sure my water wasn't breaking but I rushed off the couch and over to the hardwood floor. Sure enough, fluid started running down my leg. Matt asked what was happening and I said "I think my water is breaking!" and ran to the bathroom (as fast as a 40 week pregnant woman can run). Most of my water flowed into the toilette (I was so lucky!). After I cleaned myself up a bit, I furiously raced around the house grabbing last minute items and telling Matt we had to go. We called who we needed to call and (after my husband picked out the perfect tshirt) we headed off to the hospital.

We live about 7 or 8 miles away from the hospital and by the time we hit about mile 6, I had my first contraction. It was bad but not unbearable. I was able to breathe my way through and we got to the hospital (keep in mind, fluid was still running down my legs through all of this lol). Did you know the hospital locks it's doors late at night? Yeah, neither did we. We wandered around the ER looking for someone to let us in for a couple minutes and FINALLY made it into labor and delivery. My heart sang when they led us down to the "good room". I mean, that room is AMAZZZZZZZZZING. A huge room with a big comfy bed and a big comfy chair. It's just lovely. They hooked me up to machines and contractions started almost immediately. They decided to see how progressed I was. STILL 1cm only I was 90% effaced. I was floored that I was still 1cm. I laid there laboring for about 2 hours. The contractions were excruciating and very close together. There were times where focusing on breathing just wasn't an option. I had to scream and cry a little bit. They checked my progression about 2 hours after I came in and I was 7cm dilated. My contractions were, literally, off the chart. It was finally time for the epidural. I was ELATED! Getting an epidural is tricky business- and easily, one of the most un-fun parts. Not because it hurts but because you cannot move. No matter what. Luckily for me, I had a great nurse who talked me through the whole thing. I focused on nothing but her and what she was saying. I started having a contraction during the middle the pain of not being able to move just about killed me. But, it was over just like that and I couldn't feel the contractions anymore. I soon learned that this was not a great thing. The epidural wore off (but just on one side for some reason) and I started feeling all of the contractions. They finally rolled me over and it kicked back in. I suffered for about a half hour (or what felt like it) with off the charts contractions waving through me again. Matt was SOOOO great during the whole process (although, we almost lost him during the epidural lol). He told me I was doing great, I could do this, he loves me, I'm amazing, I can do it, keep breathing, I'm doing great. Honestly, he saved me during labor. The nurse checked me at about 4:30 and said "you're almost 10 cm. We've called the doctor, would you like to start pushing?" My heart seriously stopped. Do I want to start pushing? The weight of that question is very strong when you don't know what lies ahead!

I agreed to push. The epidural was VERY strong and I couldn't feel where I was pushing. For anyone who hasn't yet gone through labor and delivery, you push in your bottom. I was putting all my strength in my legs but didn't know it. They finally turned down the epidural after about 2 hours of non progressional pushing. I was exhausted. I was crying. I said "I can't do this" probably 3,000 times. Everyone around me told me I could do it- I HAD to do it. Once the epidural was turned down, it started wearing off big time. I was feeling all the contractions, every movement downward Layla made- I felt it all. And boy did it HURT. It burns (yes, like a ring of fire). I asked how long I had been pushing probably 30 times. Each time someone said "It doesn't matter, just keep pushing". I was exhausted. Physically, yes, but less obviously- the pain had taken over my entire body. I was exhausted from pain. I screamed and cried. Finally, at the peak, I started hyperventilating from the pain. I couldn't breathe anymore. I screamed "GET HER OUUUTTTT!!!!" The doctor was there and he said "You can't keep saying 'I can't'. They turn into 'I won'ts' and you will need a c-section." That was motivation enough for me. I agreed to a vacuum birth at the last minute because I was just so tired and I knew, if I kept pushing, I would pass out from pain and exhaustion. I felt her move down and I felt her head come out. I was screaming at this point. I mean SCREAMING. Matt was by my side the whole time. He told me I was strong, I can do this, don't give up, she's almost here baby, I can see her beautiful head. We were sobbing together. He was sobbing because he could see me in physical and mental anguish and I was crying because...well, I was in physical and mental anguish. Finally, she came out. And it was beautiful. We were both sobbing, and I forgot all the pain. I forgot all the worry, all the tears, all the screaming and my world revolved around her. She was there. I felt no stitches, I didn't feel the placenta come out, I didn't feel them look for the bleeding that was coming from a mystery zone- all I felt was my beautiful baby girl make her way up and immediately start breast feeding. She was absolutely perfect. Healthy, beautiful and perfect. And all ours. 7 pounds 15 oz and 19.5 inches of pure perfection. 

My recovery has been intense. I lost a lot of blood and am anemic so I was forced to lay in bed and was considered a "fall risk". I have a lot of stitches and, just getting up off the couch is a huge struggle for me. But, there isn't anything I wouldn't do for my favorite girl. Matt has been AMAZING throughout the entire process for both Layla and myself. He has barely sat down long enough to finish a meal for himself. He takes Layla while I eat, he wants to burp her after every meal (she's had a hard time with gas and it's really taken a toll on our sleep!), he came home and cleaned the entire house while I was in recovery, he went out and bought me some healthy groceries. My favorite thing he does? Every once in a while, when I'm feeding Layla (seriously, thank GOD for nipple shields. I mean, thank GOD!), I'll look over and he'll be looking at us- just to make sure we're both ok. Seriously, how did I get so lucky to have these two in my life? I must have done something really awesome. 

He told me before we left that he's never been so excited to get a girl home before. 

And here she is. She has that dimple and it just makes my heart melt into soup. 

A new dance has started again. We've danced the rest of them pretty well- and we seem to have a handle on this one.