Well we made it. And by we, I really mean Sophie Emma. Entering the world at 9:33pm on March 20th, 2014. Happy, Healthy, and Big! Weighing in at 9lbs 1oz and 21 inches long. Mom, Dad and big brother Matthew couldn’t be happier.

It started early that Thursday morning. Although I have a great ability to fall asleep quickly, recently I have become a light sleeper. So when I heard the light tapping of my wife’s fingers on the iPhone, I rolled over and asked if everything was ok. She looked at me and said, “yes… I think this is it”. She had already started recording her contractions. Although they were somewhat inconsistent, they were definitely rolling through.

It was almost 4am, and Anne had been tracking her progress. Likely fearful not to make the same mistake with Matthew (when she thought she had food poisoining – by yours truly), she suffered through the majority of labor at home overnight before ever thinking that she should call her OB.  Matthew was delivered just 4 short hours after we arrived at the hospital.

This time we were she was prepared.

The excitement boiled up for both of us as we started thinking what the day would be like. Things were falling into place perfectly. Adding stress to the event were all of the unknowns.  Would we both need to rush from work? Would we have to get someone to watch Matthew in the middle of the night? Would someone need to pick him up from school unexpectedly? Luckily, plenty of family and friends had offered to assist. But as it turned out, we would be able to get Matthew off to school without any hiccups to his schedule, and by the time his day was over – he would officially be a big brother.

Unable to fall back asleep as I was filled with nervous excitement and anticipation. I headed downstairs to fire off some emails to work and started cleaning up the house. I was raring to go, and happy that this day was finally here. So after waiting to wake Matthew and then shuffling him off to school, we headed over to Shady Grove Hospital. Anne’s contractions seemed to be happening on a still inconsistent basis, but they were still happening. So we went through the paperwork phase, and then were set up in a triage area where we would spend the next 4 hours.

The nurses were all very friendly, and all very consistent with their information for us. There didn’t seem to be much activity. Essentially no signs of contractions on the monitor. They said that although the (forewaring TMI) mucus plug had fallen out, that was not an “official” sign that labor had started since she was not dilated. We were asked to hold on and wait to see the doctor on call. When he finally did show up, he reiterated the same thing, suggesting that it could be a day or two… or even up to a week before labor started. He provided the option to stay at the hospital and walk around a bit and see what happens… or to head home and carry on as if it was just another Thursday. We chose option “B”, but with full intentions of having the baby before the weekend. Is it possible to will a kid out? I can’t say for sure… but I would suggest banana pancakes – they did seem to do the trick.

After eating way too much at lunch, we headed home so Anne could rest. The rest period didn’t seem to last long. Within 2 hours she was screaming for me upstairs. She had to try and catch her breath after a contraction to let me know they they were coming fast and furious.  The doctor told us to look out for the 5-1-1. A contraction every 5 minutes, lasting a minute, for an hour. So I put my official timekeepers hat on and began to track everything over the next hour, plus. Pretty consistently Anne was having contractions lasting anywhere from 40 seconds to just over a minute. In addition, she was having to focus on her breathing… and the sound of my voice was annoying. So there you have it. The final straw is when you just can’t take listening to your husband anymore!

Realizing I had been tracking for longer than an hour, I asked Anne if she was ready to call the doctor. Since the contractions seemed to be flowing just a few minutes apart, we decided it was best for me to call and communicate the recent goings-on. I could tell immedaitely that the doctor thought I was another oversensitive parent to be.  We had just left the hospital less than 5 hours ago… no way things had advanced this quickly? After relaying everything, he said to come on in. We arranged to have Matthew picked up at school by my parents and headed out.

We arrived back at the hospital right around 6pm. Able to skip triage this time around (they must have seen the pain on Anne’s face)… or perhaps it was the fact that she needed a wheelchair to make it up to the third floor. The pain was intense. The nurses were asking her lots of questions, but her answers were taking much longer as she was trying to manage through the contractions. To our surprise she was already at 7cm. This baby wanted out. (thanks banana pancakes)

Desparate for her epidural, there were some mandatory protocols that had to be achieved first. 800 cc of saline and bloodwork had to come back from the lab. I’m not sure who was more worried that we wouldn’t reach these milestones in time before we had to push. Hearing your wife in pain is only second to one of your kids. I know women deliver babies every day, some without the benefits of western medicine, but you just don’t want to hear a loved one in pain if it could be avoided, or at least minimized.

The frantic work of the nurses made everything fall into place and the anesthesiologist came in and placed the epidural as Anne had reach 10cm. Even though he made it seem like it wasn’t necessary at this time since she was ready to push… we all made it clear to him that there WOULD BE an epidural.  Which for the record is a very uncomfortable procedure to watch. My wife was still in a lot of pain and it took a bit for the pain of the contractions to subside, but when they finally did, the intensity in the room settled down.  Anne was given specific instruction not to push whatsoever… even if she felt tremedous pressure, without communicating to the team.

When the time came, my wife put her game face on. It seemed like the pushing lasted a lot longer this go round (45 minutes)… but alas, achieving the same result. Without a doubt, I had the same reaction as when Matthew was born. Seeing the top of my child’s head appearing into the world. And then her face. Everything in that moment felt right. And then they pull the rest of the kid out… and I just think how in the ??? I mean really… in proportion, seeing the head coming out makes sense.  But when you see these long arms and legs getting pulled through, it is without a doubt the most amazing thing. Until you witness it with you own eyes, it is really hard to comprehend.

So for one brief moment, my daughter was the youngest person on this planet. And for the rest of my life, I will be one proud father.