I had a baby.

Early in the morning, around 2 AM, a couple days before my due date, I began having contractions. Nothing fancy, and not especially painful. But I knew it was a signal that I was going to meet my baby soon. Which was an enormous relief–those last couple weeks of pregnancy were no joke.

I had contractions off and on throughout the day, but with varying consistency and intensity. But 9:30PM the contractions had intensified enough for me to start timing them. And by 10:30PM I had called my FIL to ask for his advice (he’s an OB/GYN) because this felt different. Ben was at work, my mother was asleep, but it was time to get moving. We got to the hospital shortly after 11PM, and by 12:30AM when Ben arrived, I’d got my epidural and was progressing comfortably. The epidural meant that I rested comfortably for 6 hours before giving birth. I could feel the contractions, but no pain. I joke that I hadn’t slept so well since being pregnant, and I was only slightly exaggerating. This photo was taken 2 hours before my baby was born.


You know how films portray labor and delivery? Totally unhelpful. My water never broke, but around 5:30 AM I was 9 centimeters dilated, so they broke it for me, and 20 minutes after that it was pushing time.

Guys. Again. Epidurals are amazing. Seeing as I’d rested comfortably in the hours preceding delivery, I had plenty of energy when it was time for me to actually do something, and once I got the hang of pushing, everything happened rather quickly. After maybe 20 pushes, spread out over 4-5 contractions, Ben caught our baby girl.

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He cried. And finally we were all three of us connected to each other. Our perfect little circle of a family.

That was seven weeks ago, and now my little girl is growing fat and sassy. My beautiful Marlowe.

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