Birth Story - 39 weeks

As I write this post, there is a tiny baby squirming and kicking and hiccuping in the clear plastic crib next to me. He is more than viable, more than possible - he is HERE and he is PERFECT.

I knew I was in labor just after midnight. The contractions went from painless to not so painless. I ironed a week's worth of my husband's work clothes - a goal I had set early in my pregnancy in case I went into labor before I was actually "ready."

By 1 a.m. I was hurting so badly, but I went to the bathroom and found my bloody show. I tiptoed into my bedroom to wake my husband - "Honey, wake up. We're having a baby."

He shot out of bed like his pants were on fire. It was time to go.

We dropped off our daughter at the babysitter and timed my contractions with an iPhone app. In what seemed like no time at all, we were at the hospital in Triage. A quick check and I was 5 centimeters. An epidural killed my pain and I was able to sleep for a few hours. I felt something running down the back of my leg - another quick check and I was ready.

"Let's meet your baby," the doctor said.

"I like your style," I said.

Four contractions, eight pushes and 10 minutes later, Clark came screaming into this world. The nurse surprised me by placing him on my chest right away. I was in shock. He was here. He was breathing. There was nothing wrong. There was nothing wrong!

I had spent so much time waiting and preparing and worrying over this baby that I hadn't really honestly considered what it would be like to have him here. The nurses cleaned him up and handed him to my husband.

I will never, not as long as I live, forget the look on my husband's face as he held our living baby for the first time. I remember the look on his face when we held Drew, that little tiny body - so underdeveloped and flawed but so perfect and beautiful at the same time - and I remember the feeling of holding something we created together - something gone.

The mere idea that we could hold this living baby and take him home and raise him - I could not stop crying.

The joy of the day had an undercurrent of sadness for the boys we never got to comfort and swaddle and snuggle. It is not lost on us that this joy could have been ours twice before, that all we ever wanted for them was here with us now. Such deep grief I'm afraid will be perennial in our lives and in Clark's. We will, undoubtedly, mark each of his milestones on behalf of his brothers. He is our barometer on how they would have lived.

Now I spend hours just watching Clark sleep. I can't take my eyes off of him - he is so perfect. I don't mind getting up with him at night, I enjoy every bottle and diaper change. I know that nothing can be as precious and sacred as this experience, as this baby, who I carry in my arms AND in my heart.