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(This is way too long, but I'm not going to write this up twice... so, I'm sorry and you're free to skim a paragraph or two.)

"You will have a baby by tomorrow 1 o'clock in the afternoon!" - If my midwife had told me that at my appointment at 4.30 pm afternoon on Tuesday, 21st March, I would've thought she was either crazy or just plain mean, to tease me like that. She didn't say that obviously, but that's how it happened and to think that at that appointment we were discussing induction options, concluded that membrane swiping was impossible (baby was still too far up and I was barely 2 cms dilated) and setting a deadline (if nothing happens, induction on Monday 3/27)! She did mention as we were leaving that things could start anytime, but at that point I was just trying to keep focusing on facts and not on hopes, because I was so tired of the anticipation of things that were supposedly going to happen but never did. I did have some contractions that day but the usual useless kind. I noticed that they were not going away as they had the days before, but decided to ignore that, because... see above, the unfulfilled anticipation thing again. I went to bed and dozing off went through the usual dilemma: should I hope against hope (Me? Dramatic? What?) or should I be realistic and cynical and envision induction as the logical next step? I was interrupted by some crazy kicks, much stronger and erratic than they had been in the last few weeks, since the baby barely had any space to move. He wouldn't stop, but somehow I managed to fall asleep anyway, well, until I realized there was warm water running down my legs... Yes! This was it! Hope: 1 Cynicism: 0.

So we were giddy for a while and then went to sleep. (Not before I went to eat something. Prior experience had taught me that going without food during labor is not recommendable, which is true... if you're talking about a 30+ hour labor though.). At around 5 am the contractions were getting a little uncomfortable, but still very manageable. I had breakfast (Notice a theme here?) around 8 and then things got worse, but I could still deal with it. I did my breathing blablabla and decided to lie down again. I fell asleep, which was nice but then scared me because it meant contractions were slowing down and I was not going to allow that. I was still hopeful I could have the baby before midnight that day, so slowing down was not an option. (The idea here was that both Lincoln and I were aiming for a birth process of under 40 hours, so 20 sounded just about heavenly!)

We decided to take a walk around the parking lot to get the contractions closer together again. Beforehand we called the midwife to let her know my water broke etc. She suggested taking castor oil to speed things up. I refused, because, frankly, that would have been overkill. Go ahead, look up "castor oil". Sounds like fun, no? Anyway, we went and things did pick up and they hurt. I suggested we could drive to the birthcenter so they could check me and like a good coach, Lincoln refused and said it was "WAY TOO EARLY". I suppose it was, but none of us could anticipate how quickly "early" would turn into "not really early". Here is Lincoln taking pictures of me while I'm in pain (yes, feel free to make your own opinion about that...). I am to give birth 2 hours later:

So we get back inside and for the next hour I am in complete agony. I didn't remember feeling this way with Veronika (maybe because I had an epidural from 6 to 10 cms? On the other hand I did push her out with pitocin only, so I wasn't unfamiliar with pain in this regard.), I started wondering if I used to be tougher and was much more sensitive to pain all of a sudden... You know, motherhood made me soft? HAHAHA! The only position that was barely manageable was letting my upper body rest on the fitness ball while kneeling. I tried to relax, but it wasn't really possible. Lincoln was helping me remember to breathe slowly and not to panic, but I couldn't really do it. The pain was ripping me apart, I got scared that if this meant to go on for several more hours I was not going to make it. I started dreaming of epidurals and in my delirious state I decided epidurals had to be just the thing! Like I didn't know! I started yelling that we needed to go, that I was done. Lincoln said we could, but we should wait for five more contractions so he could measure them and give the midwives some info. Five!!! I thought that was ridiculous, but I agreed, because really at that point my brain was not working. I made it through three and yelled some more while Lincoln started explaining how the contractions were not long enough or something. I remember hearing him and trying to process the information but was confused because literally I couldn't make any sense of what he was saying. I remember snapping: What do you mean, "not long enough"? I don't understand what are you saying!!! WE NEED TO GO!!!" Poor guy. I was not nice. He went to pack up our stuff and I decided to make it down the two flights of stairs to the car. During that entire time I felt like I was about to throw up - only I never could. There just wasn't a - good - moment. It's hard to let your stomach contract when you are otherwise contracting all over, it just didn't work. I had a plastic bag in my hand all the time, but eventually decided that it was useless and if I really did manage to throw up it would be just anywhere and I wasn't going to care, because, heck, it really was irrelevant at that point.

I made it to the car,unlocked it and then paused... sitting down seemed like the wrongest thing to do. I remember I couldn't figure out why, but sitting down just didn't sound right. While I was trying to reconcile sitting with my reluctant brain, I realized Lincoln had everything packed up in the other car... the one without the carseats. It made sense insofar as we always left the car with the carseat with whoever was at home with Veronika in case they needed to leave, but apart from the fact that my mom didn't drive, we were driving somewhere to bring a baby back and a carseat would be quite essential to that. After I had sat down in the car, Lincoln came over to tell me to switch to the other one and I yelled at him that we needed the carseat, no?! So he went to get the bags... I know he might not be too happy I'm telling you this tidbit, but I thought it was endearing, in that "frazzled-father-during-labor-movie-stereotype"-way. Plus he had been holding it together so nicely up to that moment. I can't help feeling some sort of relief at the thought that my husband lost control for a moment, long after I had lost control over my brain, my mouth and my bladder (sadly, yes).

It's 12.35 p.m. and we are on our way to the birth center, which is about a 10-minute-car-ride from our house. I don't remember much except crazy contractions and a certain confusion rising in my brain, triggered by some weird involuntary urges I was getting, that felt very similar to... pushing. We park in front of the center and Lincoln takes a moment to tell me that there's no reason to get upset or disappointed if the midwife tells me I'm not as far along as I might think I am. I hear it all but in my head I'm just worried how I will make it to the birthing room. As we enter the center, Lincoln tries to steer me into an examination room, but I am not moving. I decided I was not going to leave from there no matter what. I start walking towards the stairs thinking, that I will just drag myself to a bed and stay and if they think I came too early they can just drag me out, but I was not going to move a muscle. A midwife came to rescue and helped me up the stairs. I had two more contractions and "involuntary urges" which prompted her to reprimand me sternly: NO PUSHING! Then she told me to climb on the bed while she got ready for the baby. I made it to the bed but had no idea how to get on it. Somehow I did end up on it, with my pants down and the midwife on the phone calling the other midwife to "come immediately, she feels pressure!", then calling the receptionist: "cancel the appointments and then come up, I need another set of hands". Poor Sue... I remember wondering "Oh the receptionst helps with births now?", but I was told later she had barely witnessed one before she was summoned to "hold my other leg"...

At around 12.45 the midwife says I'm 9 cms and can push if I want to. Boy, she did not have to tell me twice. I remember Lincoln's happily surprised face when he heard that... and me thinking: DUH! OF COURSE! How did I not know? After they positioned me... I pushed. I pushed like it was the last thing I was to do on earth. With Veronika I had been so exhausted by the time pushing came around, that I barely could hold it for 5 seconds and so she kept sliding in and out over and over. This time I knew I could not handle any sliding back in. The contractions were so strong and so fast, there was no way I would be able to endure them for any longer period of time. After the first few pushes the head came out and a few more and then the shoulder and then the rest... It was 1.02 pm and my boy was here and I was in complete and utter shock. Poor guy came out bruised, because my body made him make the trip in a few minutes. I on the other hand did not have any damage whatsoever... another incredible detail, which I am beyond grateful for. What else could I have wished for besides minimal pushing and no tearing?

The relief! The exhilaration! It's barely afternoon and the baby is here and the pain is gone! I don't even know how to express the joy and complete amazement we felt. It's just something else to have a baby and not be utterly exhausted. We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, eating takeout (!) and just staring at him and obviously, going over the events, wondering how it was possible for things to have gone the way they did. I don't have to explain that if I give birth again I'd rather repeat this experience than the first, although one should not be fooled.. a quick labor is not necessarily an easy one. I won't bore you with more elaborate descriptions of the pain I felt, but let's just say, if you push a baby out in 10 minutes instead of 100, your body is going to crank up those contractions and you will be able to notice the difference, believe me.

I am so grateful for how things went. I could be tempted to say I deserved it after the first birth, but it's not how I really feel. I have no illusions about how hard pregnancy, childbirth and the raising of children is and while that doesn't change my enjoyment of those things, it's still a great gift when you experience a reprieve like that.

We love you, Ivan!