Well...that escalated quickly

 The classic line from Anchorman perfectly describes our daughter's arrival into this world.

On Friday, April 17th, my parents arrived in town and Adam and I were very pleased. Now we wouldn't have to worry about what to do with Latham if I went into labor in the middle of the night. Thank goodness! That Friday, I had had an appointment and the doctor said I was 3-4 centimeters dilated and I would go into labor at anytime. That Friday evening, the contractions started coming more consistently, though they weren't hugely strong, and Adam and I decided to go into the hospital. The hospital staff checked me and, since I hadn't progressed past 3 centimeters, they gave me a sleeping pill and had me sleep in the hospital. When I woke up in the morning and hadn't progressed, they sent me home. It was okay. I had gotten some good rest and at least I knew I wasn't in active labor. I was embarrassed that, once again, I had come in with false labor (just like Latham).

Saturday was a nice day. I didn't have very many Braxton-Hicks contractions (until the evening) and we got to hang out with family and friends on a beautiful day.

Sunday dawned with lots of Braxton-Hicks contractions. I went to church but spent most of my time outside the sanctuary, trying to breathe and drink water. We went to Target and walking seemed to help. My mucus plug actually came out in the bathroom at Target. How refined! After Target, I ate lunch and laid down and actually managed to sleep. After I awoke, I felt okay but was still bothered by Braxton-Hicks contractions. That continued all night until about 9 or 9:30 pm. The contractions weren't getting more consistent but they were getting more painful. Adam and I watched some "Friends" reruns and I tried to start a "Bones" episode while Adam had the Spurs game on. But, geez, it was painful. I didn't want to go to the hospital with false labor again, but Adam convinced me that we should go there. A little after 10:30 pm, we left for the hospital.

It was pouring rain and, of course, I didn't have a contraction for the first 5 minutes we were in the car. I was second-guessing my decision, but then some contractions did hit and I was in too much pain to think.

When we got to the hospital, we had the SLOWEST CHECK-IN EVER. Like, this lady didn't know anything about anything. SO FRUSTRATING. Finally, Adam just took charge and said, I'm taking her up, and that spurred the lady into action. We got up to the labor&delivery ward, and our nurse was super-nice and encouraging. She checked me and I was 6 cm! At least I hadn't been imagining pain! And at least I wouldn't be sent home again! Little girl Copeland was definitely on her way. The nurse asked if I wanted an epidural and, of course, I said "HECK YEAH!"

This was about 11:45 pm, and they gave me an IV so that I could get fluids in so that I could have the epidural. They also had to give me an antibiotic. Anyway, I kind of just wandered around the room, feeling contractions, talking with Adam to keep my mind off things. Poor Adam was missing the Spurs game, but he didn't seem to mind.

My doctor came in and checked on me. Since the anesthesiologist hadn't shown up, my doctor said that he would look for him since it was odd that the anesthesiologist hadn't responded to the call yet. Good fun.

Around 12:55, things started to happen. I had been feeling lots of intense contractions and pain and I felt like I needed to go to the bathroom to defecate. Yeah, that's what it felt like. I told Adam I wanted to go to the bathroom, but the nurse heard me and said that she wanted to check to see how dilated I was. In agony, I let her check and she announced "Umm, you're 10 centimeters!" And then she called out to the hallway to get my doctor in here right now. The baby was a-coming!

I was NOT pleased. I hadn't had an epidural, and things were moving fast. I know that I muttered, more than once, how I couldn't do this. It felt like hell. I felt like hell. The doctors and nurses and Adam all told me to push and that I could do it. But, JESUS, it was awful and weird and painful. I pushed. I think I only pushed three or four times. She popped out at 1:11 am (so that tells you how quickly things escalated) and they put her little bloody body on me and that was amazing. She was so heavy. Adam said that he looked at her and couldn't believe that I had pushed something that big out. She weighed in at 9 pounds, 5 oz.

I had two first-degree tears. One wasn't bad, but the other involved a broken vein and, apparently, there was a lot of blood. My doctor stitched me up wonderfully (seriously, I felt ZERO pain or discomfort in the following days), but Adam said that the amount of blood did worry him. I figure I'll just add that blood loss to my giant bill of why he owes me.

Anyway, not having the epidural may seem amazing and all that (especially with such a large baby, I'm told), but don't praise me. I would have taken the epidural in a heartbeat, and no one should think otherwise. Now that I've had a "natural" birth and an epidural-assisted birth, I can say, without any qualms, that I preferred the epidural-assisted birth.

Despite my birthing preferences, I love this little girl. I was scared to have a little girl, as my blog posts will attest to. But now that she's here, I'm just so wrapped up in happiness. She's my little princess, and she's so gorgeous. When she breastfeeds (which she's a champion at--yay!), she likes to hold my finger with her little hand. It melts my heart and I hope that she'll never stop wanting to hold her mommy's hand.  To paraphrase Shakespeare: 'Though she be but little, she is fierce[ly mine]!" Thanks for coming (wildly, forcefully, and uniquely) into my world, my sweet Gwendolyn!