Stats: 8 lbs 5 oz, 19-20 inches (there is some dispute about his birth length but he measured 20 inches at 5 days).
Story: At 3am on the 31st I woke up in pain. Intense, sharp, periodic pain in lieu of the constant dull and annoying pain I had been experiencing for weeks. I leaned over to TC and whispered "It's go time."
Okay, not really. I think I said something more like "Ow ow. This hurts. I'm going to die," followed by obscenities.
So we got up, got dressed, vomited (that was me) and headed down the street to the hospital.
Once we got there they got me situated in a labor & delivery room and I asked, "When can I see the anesthesiologist?" Then I vomited again.
They brought in the anesthesiologist 8 hours later (or 15 minutes, my perception might have been off). Anyway, once she did her thing, which made me vomit one last time, I felt golden. Then we just waited. All day. I made progress until noon, and we all felt hopeful that by 4 or 5 our little one would arrive. But then all the progress stopped, so the pitocin began.
And still the progress was stagnant. But they have cable, which means HGTV, which I don't have at home, so I was still golden. I watched TV, ate the contraband granola bars that TC had smuggled in for me, drifted in and out of sleep while nurses came and checked on me impressed at the strength of the contractions I was having, but dismayed that nothing was happening. Meanwhile, TC was a wreck, worrying about me. He's a good husband.
Well, at 7pm my doctor called it: this baby would be born via c section. After some extra anesthesia, a priesthood blessing from TC with my Dad and BB's honorary grandfather Brown attending, I was wheeled into the OR. And just 30 or so minutes later our little baby boy was born. As they were pulling him out, the nice anesthesiologist pulled down the curtain so TC could see. Yeah. TC didn't want to see. Poor guy.
Then I heard the following conversation:
Doctor 1: Did he just pee on us?
Doctor 2: Yes. Yes he did.
Our baby came into the world urinating on the doctors. That's my boy. Not sure why that makes me proud, but it does.
I saw him for a minute before they took him and TC off to bathe, measure and weigh him. In the meantime I drifted in and out of sleep while they stitched me up. I felt nothing other than them yanking on the lower half of my body, to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. For all I know they were playing with my legs like I was a marionette.
At any rate, they wheeled me back to the labor and delivery room, and shortly after TC came in with our big/little boy. And almost immediately he was looking for his next meal. Such a hungry little beast. Thus his nickname: Beast Boy.
And that's when I fell helplessly in love.
More to come later.