a child is born in sweat and pain

Eighteen months ago, last Saturday, our little man joined us. Eighteen months. That means I've taken 18 months to write his birth story. So here it is. Feel free to just ignore this post. I'm sure most people won't care to read it, since you've heard the story and know how it ends. But I promised myself I'd publish it by this 18th mesaversary because I tend to take my sweet time with everything. I'll include some day-of photos just to keep it interesting (not of me in the hospital pre-birth, we only have one), and so you can remember that this sweet chub of a boy used to be tiny, tiny, tiny. And have long skinny legs. Which are kind of making an appearance again.


Please remember this story took place in December 2010, eighteen months ago...

 

It all started at 2:30 on December 15th, in the morning when I got up to, once again!, empty my squashed bladder. 

I felt contractions, which wasn't anything new, I'd been having contractions for about two weeks. But when I got back to bed I realized they were regular and fairly close together. So I pulled out my phone and timed them. They were about five minutes apart and lasting about 30 seconds. It was exciting to finally have something real going on, but I knew I shouldn't get too excited because things can stop. I also thought if this were the big day, I'd need some rest so I nodded off back to sleep. More like half-sleep, thanks to the excitement and the regular, uncomfortable contracting of my uterus. 

Mr. Yin had his last final scheduled for that morning at 8:30. I didn't bother to wake him up because I knew he needed his sleep to feel ready for his final, and I didn't want it to be a false alarm. I waited until he woke up and then announced, I'm pretty sure I'm in labor.