Anyway, by about 8 AM I decided that maybe I was having real contractions, and Mark and I headed to the hospital, very hopeful that it would be the day to meet Abram. When I got to the hospital, they hooked me up to a monitor, and I was not having real contractions. But I was dilated to a 6 and ready for labor. The nurses suggested that I should walk the halls of the hospital for a while to see if that would put me into labor. I tried to tell them that I had walked literally 10 miles already that weekend, gone up and down our stairs at least 200 times and tried everything else you can imagine. They made me walk....forever. After a few hours, they checked me again, and I was still not having contractions. My doctor was at the hospital and said he was fine with them hooking me up to Pitocin, which I was very grateful for.
I went into labor ready to have an epidural. The nurses knew it, the doctor knew it, everyone knew it. I was told I had to wait until the contractions started before they would give me an epidural. Labor progressed pretty slowly, and after a while I told the nurse I was ready for an epidural. She told me that I wasn't ready because I wasn't uncomfortable enough. How the heck did she know? I could do nothing to convince her to call the anesthesiologist. I'm a tough girl and because I was not screaming, moaning and writhing it pain, she decided I was fine. I was dying.
By this time I had been in the hospital for nearly 11 hours. The doctor decided to break my water to speed things up. There was a shift change, and the new nurse who came on was so much nicer. I told her I wanted an epidural, and she checked me. I was at an 8. She asked my why I hadn't already ordered one and that she couldn't believe I had made it to an 8 without it. I explained that I had been begging, and she ordered one. It was too little too late, though. By the time I was ready to push, it had completely worn off! I spent the next hour pushing, and it was miserable.
Abram finally arrived and had the cord wrapped around his neck 3 times! The doctor quickly unwrapped him, and Abram turned from blue to a beautiful color of pink within seconds. He had an awesome cry. It reminded me of a donkey for some reason. Abram's voice has always been super low and scratchy, and from that first moment I could tell he would have a very distinct voice.
I got stitched up--let's just say Abram has a huge head--and I held my perfect little boy. I couldn't believe the emotions of not being a mom one minute, and then suddenly, there I was--a mom! And then my next thoughts were that I only had 19 years with this little angel until I had to send him out into the world on a mission, and I dreaded that moment.
Well, 19 years have come and gone and my baby boy is a missionary now. I raised an awesome kid. He is sweet, smart, a super hard worker, helpful, obedient and more loving than I ever imagined a son could be. But it wasn't anything I did--he just came that way.
We finally heard from Abram this week, and he loves his Mexican friends at the MTC. My favorite line in his letter was that the Mexican guys have told him that he "is Mexican on the inside." I sent him about 4 different packages for his birthday, and hopefully the mail gods were with me today and they all arrived undamaged. It's sad to have him away from home on his birthday for the first time, but to tell you the truth, there's nowhere else I would rather have him be right now.
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