Our Newest Addition: Norah Naomi

As I lay here in bed holding my daughter in my left arm I struggle to find any words to write about her. I assure you that this is not due to any shortage of feelings or events I'm eager to share. It is entirely due to the fact that the words "my daughter" seem more beautiful, complex, and significant than any combination of written word in the history of man, and nothing I could possibly write would stand any chance of expressing how beautiful and barely comprehensible those words are to me. Maybe someday those words won't be such a tidal wave rushing over me and I will be able to write about Norah's birth with more clarity, but today you are going to get whatever I can manage to divulge as I gasp for air between waves of taking in this experience. Friday night May 11th Shawn and I went to dinner at a friend and co-workers home in Milwaukee. I had been feeling increasingly off throughout the night, but had no concept of the impending events of the next 36 hours. We left for home shortly before 10pm. On the way home I was explaining to Shawn how I felt and giving him reasons that I didn't think I was having contractions. My confidence in those arguments did not take long to waver. It was shortly after 10pm that I decided to time these "definitely" and then only "probably" not-contractions. They were remarkably consistent. The first hour was nothing short of comedic. There was so much left to do, and so many things we hadn't figured out yet. Shawn ran around packing the hospital bags, putting together the play pen, and all kinds of other tasks as we quick crammed for parenthood like an exam we thought we wouldn't have to take for another few weeks. We laughed and joked about the hilarity of our cliche unpreparedness. I even called into work at the Pfister for the very first time. I had read and heard how often women were sent back home from the hospital during early labor, and was well versed in stories about how long labor could take. I did call my doctor and ask for her opinion about when to go in. As expected she recommended I try to stay home for a bit until the contractions were more severe. She also suggested I take a warm shower. I was a bit hesitant about the shower at first, but once I got in the shower it was almost an hour before I got out. Then I laid down and tried to rest for a few hours between contractions. The rumor was that I would need my energy. Around 5am I noticed the increasing severity of the contractions as well as another significant change (I'll spare you). I sent a text message to my doctor and she told me she would tell the hospital I was on my way. I woke Shawn who hadn't been sleeping any better than I had, and we got ready to go. It was still before 6am and we realized we had no idea which of the three entrances to go to. It was just funny little details like that occurring that whole night. We found an open door, did a bit of paperwork, and got wheeled upstairs. I was admitted to the hospital around 6am. They brought me up to the birthing suite, and it was awesome! I had my own private tub in the room, a birthing ball, and plenty of space to move around. I spent quite a bit of time in the tub the first few hours. As relaxing as it was, it sort of slowed down my contractions, so I eventually decided to give it up. I ended up really liking the birthing ball too. I had been a bit nervous about my "birth plan", how realistic it was, and how to best communicate my intentions to the nurses. I am still shocked how smoothly it went. I never had to be hooked up to an I.V. or anything like that. My heart rate , the baby's heart rate, my blood pressure, and my contractions were all monitored intermittently, but most of the time I was walking around a free woman! I was very blessed to have things go as smoothly as they did! Things didn't move along especially quickly, but I was "complication" free! (Thank you Jesus!) My mom and sister came up to see how I was and got a nice list of things to do, which was really, really nice considering our aforementioned unpreparedness. Shawn was able to stay by my side the whole time, and was absolutely amazing. By 3pm-ish I had been stuck at about 5 cm for hours and my doctor was starting to discuss breaking my water. I was debating a bit (not sure why now as I look back- I think I was scared of how painful I knew it would be after that). Finally around 7:30pm I think I realized I was just being a bit of a chicken and decided to go for it. She broke my water around 8pm. Then things started to get real. Little Norah was herself in a frenzied little rush of last minute preparing before the impending changes. She might not have realized she was being evicted so soon! The next 3 hours were a complete blur. In retrospect I'm sure it wasn't me those last 3 hours, as I am sure I couldn't have handled it. There was one point especially while I was pushing that I felt like I had just been transported back into my body after 5 or so minutes of absence. It took me a few seconds to remember what was going on. It was shortly after this that I was struggling for reasons why I had decided to go "drug free" (but I did it)! So I pushed some more. Then I could see the head. So I pushed some more. It hurt. So I pushed some more. It hurt so much. So I pushed some more. Then it happened. My eyes were like saucers as I watched her come out of my. It was so completely surreal. One more big push to expel those shoulders and fingers and toes. Then I heard from my amazing husband's lips, "it's a Norah", and the next second my sticky little daughter was on my chest and I was in sheer awe at everything that had happened. And the rest I can tell you later...