A year ago today

***Disclaimer: This is Abilene's birth story. I had a pretty normal delivery but if that's something that grosses 

you out, don't say I didn't warn you. Written on March 29th. My thoughts within the story are in italics.***

A year ago today, I was initiated into motherhood after 13 hours of labor and a natural childbirth. And it was the best day of my life.

This day today is Abilene's 1st birthday. And today marks the fastest and most incredible year of my life.

It's still so hard for me to fathom how Abilene went from this:

She loves her Daddy.

To this:

She still loves her Daddy.

All in just one year.

Babies truly are a miracle of life. What a privilege it is to have God consider us worthy of such an incredible process.

Last year on this day, I woke up around 5:30am with some cramping that I had never felt before. I had the thought that maybe it could be the start of labor but Abilene wasn't due for another week and I definitely didn't want to play the labor card too early. My biggest fear was to show up at a hospital only to have them tell you to go home because whatever it was you were feeling wasn't labor.

The hubs was asleep and I didn't want to freak him out so I tried to go back to sleep and see if the cramps would go away. About an hour later, they were still there. I remember learning in our labor and delivery class (why people skip those classes, I have no idea) that I should take a shower to see if that changed any of my contraction-like symptoms. So I grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper, turned the timer on my watch on and wrote down the time of the most recent contraction. I left the pencil, paper and watch on the windowsill and got in the shower, marking down each consecutive contraction after that. The contractions were fluctuating around 6 to 8 minutes apart. I took my time in the shower. This couldn't possibly be real, could it? But the shower finally ended and the timing between contractions didn't really ease up. Maybe this is for real? Mmm, maybe not. I don't know.

I wanted to call my mom as soon as I knew I was in labor because she planned on coming to the hospital... from GA. The drive is about 11 hours so I didn't want to wait too long if I was really in labor but I didn't want to cry wolf either. What should I do?

I went out to the living room, sat down with my journal and decided to spend a little time with God. Seemed appropriate. All the while, still timing contractions.

9:00am rolled around and the contractions progressed to about 6 minutes apart. Brad's still asleep. Still don't want to freak him out. Maybe I should call my mom.

I call my mom and tell her how I'm feeling and she says she's getting in the car immediately. Oh man, maybe this really is for real. If it is for real, what does that mean? Am I ready? Carlisle's 45 minutes away, when should we go to the hospital? I'm kind of excited... but I'm also kind of nervous. Should I wake Brad up? How bad is this really going to hurt?

The hubs wakes up and starts a cup of coffee. "Hey, babe, so I woke up with some cramps this morning. Uh, I told my mom about them and she's going to start driving up here." Brad pauses and looks at me as his I-just-woke-up brain processes what I just said. His face breaks into a smile. "Are you going in labor?" he asks. "I think so," I say.

We have a meeting at 11:00am with our financial adviser to, ironically, talk about how to plan for college. Supposedly this labor thing could be drawn out for a while, right? We still plan on going to the meeting but around 10:45am the contractions have progressed to 4-5 minutes apart. We call to cancel without giving them the appropriate 24-hours in advance. I guess labor was a decent excuse because they seemed to be okay with it.

The hubs grabs the overnight bag for the hospital, I grab the dog. We hop in the car and insert the pump-up CD I made for the drive to Carlisle. Really, Brooke? A labor pump-up CD? I know that probably sounds like the cheesiest thing you've ever heard of in your life but the CD was full of all of my favorite songs - songs that make you want to roll down the window and sing at the top of your lungs. They were songs to celebrate. Our daughter was coming and if that wasn't reason enough to celebrate, I don't know what is. I was ecstatic. I still listen to that CD sometimes and it takes me back to the joy and the anticipation of that car ride to the hospital. I think I'll use it again for this second go around - although we'll probably only have enough driving time for one song... guess I'll have to choose wisely.

The hubs and I get to Brad's parent's house and the timing of the contractions hasn't changed. Still 4-5 minutes apart. Maybe we should call the hospital now. I call in and tell the midwife on duty what's going on and she asks me what level my pain is at on a scale from 1-10. For the life of me, I've never understood that question. How in the world could someone - who's never been through all of labor before accurately describe the level of their pain? The only way I could know what a 7 feels like is if I know what a 10 feels like, right? Sooo, I fumble through my words and I say that I think I'm a 5. I'm mean, good glory, it hurts but labor is supposed to be the most pain I'll ever feel in my life right? I better play it safe with my number.

Apparently, 5 was the wrong answer. Apparently, being a 5 really means, "You're probably not in labor." So she suggests I take a shower. I tell her that I already did earlier but it doesn't seem to change her opinion. She lets me know that if nothing changes and the contractions progress, I can come into the hospital. So I reluctantly go upstairs to take another shower. Ugh, fine. I guess she probably knows what she's talking about, she's done this like a million times. The hubs sits in the bathroom and continues timing the contractions. No change.

After the shower, we go downstairs to catch up with the hubs brother and sister-in-law. They conveniently flew in from England the day before. As we sat in the living room, the contractions began to average a little closer to 4 minutes apart and they were becoming a little less fun. I was definitely becoming more uncomfortable and I was definitely beginning to believe that this was the real deal.

Another thing we had learned in our labor and delivery class was that, once you were admitted into the hospital, you could no longer eat anything (in the event that you'd need surgery or something). There's no greater incentive for me to stay out of the hospital as long as humanly possible than the knowledge that I would no longer be able to eat once I got in there. It's around 12:30pm, so we all head to Panera for lunch.

I try to make sure I eat something with protein (supposedly, I'll need my strength), we sit through lunch and the contractions are starting to hurt more. Maybe going for a walk will help. So we part ways with Brad's brother and sister-in-law and head to the park.

It's a beautiful day. The hubs and I talk, continue to keep track of the contractions, and walk. At the beginning of the walk, I'm just gritting my teeth through them. By the end, I have to stop walking every time a contraction comes. Maybe we should go to the hospital now.

It's just after 2:00pm and we get to the hospital to check-in. The nurses look at us like we're crazy when Brad says I'm in labor. I guess having somewhat of a smile on my face and still being remotely polite to those we came in contact with means I'm clearly not in labor. I had no idea that screaming bloody murder in Hollywood-esc fashion might be the only way to get your point across but that's just not really my style. The nurses reluctantly give me a room, have me change clothes and let me know that I'll be checked as soon as the midwife is ready.

An hour goes by. I hated knowing that they didn't believe me. I could feel it when they came in and out of the room. You know the feeling I'm talking about. It made me doubt myself. It made me assume that the pain I was feeling was probably false labor and, by that point - if it was false labor, how would I ever get through real labor? I wanted to have a natural childbirth so badly. Not because I wanted to prove myself. I wanted it for Abilene. Abilene had been inside my body for 9 months. Anything I put into my body went into her body and that fact wouldn't change during labor. I didn't want that medication going to her too. But this hurts, this hurts really bad. And if this isn't real labor, I don't know if I can do real labor naturally. Now I was starting to become scared. For the love, will someone please just tell me if this is real or not!?

Another hour goes by and the midwife finally comes in. It's just after 4:00pm and she's surprised to tell me I'm at 5 centimeters and definitely in labor. I've never heard more glorious words in my life. I now know that the pain I'm feeling is justified. This is for real. We're going to have a baby today. I think I can do this.

Another hour goes by. The hubs has been great. He's been talking to me, coaching me in his best "I-usually-only-do-this-with-cross-country-kids-but-I-guess-can-find-some-parallel-here" voice. I'm trying to drink water but I can tell I'm getting really dehydrated. My lips are going to be so chapped after this. Dang, I hate it when my lips are chapped. It's going to take me like 3 months to un-chap them. Brad lets me squeeze his hand during the contractions and, at one point, starts to laugh. I so badly do not want to be that wife who insists that she's going to kill the man who did this to her but I can't understand why he's laughing. I desperately ask him, "Why are you laughing?" Cus, if you seriously think this is funny I really just might kill you. Brad tells me that I'm squeezing his hand so hard he's pretty sure I might break his fingers. He doesn't know what else to do but laugh because it hurts that bad. Thanks for the clarification, dear, but don't even think about laughing again at least while I'm in labor.... at this point, maybe ever in your life. Knowing, though, that he's not laughing at me does make me feel a little better.

It's 6:00pm and the poor hubs has lost his coaching touch. At this point, everything hurts and there's no amount of breathing and no position I can be in to relieve any of it. Just straight up pain. Thank you, God, for allowing contractions to come in waves. You are so merciful. Even if there's almost no break in between them, it's still a wave and you'll take any amount of relief at that point even if it's just "slightly less" pain for two seconds.

I tell the hubs to go out to the car and grab the overnight bag. I had things in there I thought might help like non-pump-up CDs (totally different situation now) with worship music, pictures of Abilene's ultrasound with scripture, etc. By then, they probably wouldn't have done much good but anything might have been better than nothing and I was willing to give it a shot.

I am certain I'm going to go to the bathroom all over the hospital bed so the nurses help me to the restroom. Good glory, this is the most humbling thing I've ever done in my life. While I'm there, the sensation to go to the bathroom changes into the most intense pressure I've ever felt and the nurses think that this might be it.

Somehow I make it from the bathroom back to the bed and Brad walks in to hurricane of commotion. Because no one believed I was actually in labor when we first came in, I hadn't actually been admitted to the hospital. Nurses on either side of me are trying to get an IV just to replace fluids into my arm... and then my other arm... and then my hand... and then my other hand... I'm too dehydrated for them to find a vein. I'm like God's gift to blood donating! What do you mean you can't find a vein?!

The midwife checks me. I'm at 8 centimeters and she says the baby's coming. My water breaks. Oh, thank goodness I can't see anything down there because this is like the most disgusting feeling ever. I never, ever want to know what that looks like. Those poor nurses. They turn me on my side and the midwife tells the nurses to forget the IV. It's time to push.

The pain is hard to explain but it's basically intense pressure and intense burning. One person described it to me as "taking a blowtorch to your [oh, hey there]." Which was surprisingly accurate. Everything up until this point has happened so quickly that the whole process just feels like one big reaction because you're definitely no where near in control of anything anymore.

The nurse at my side is so encouraging. She knows I want to have a natural childbirth (not that I could change my mind at that point anyway) and keeps telling me over and over: "You're doing great! This is the only pain you'll ever have where you get a reward at the end." My head totally understands what you're saying but I've never had a child before so, in the midst of this pain, my heart just doesn't get it yet. But oh, how I wanted to believer her and oh, how I hung on her every word.

I think I only pushed 3 or 4 times. It was so fast.

Suddenly the room was silent, waiting in anticipation for that small cry. What a wonderful sound.

And then I understood what that sweet nurse said to me over and over again for there she laid on my chest: the most beautiful reward I've ever seen.

Nothing has changed from that day. A year has passed and sweet Abi Lou is still the most amazing gift I've ever been given.

Everything is different because of her. Our time is different, our finances are different, our sleep is different, my wardrobe is different, our vocabulary is different, my body is different. And different is very, very good.

A year ago today, I was blessed with a gift that will probably give more to me than I will ever give to her.

Maybe that's why we celebrate birthdays because today feels more like a day for me than a day for Abilene. The day of her birth is a milestone to mark the goodness I've seen in the last 365 days (well 366, this year) because I'm not guaranteed another 365, although I pray I'm blessed with them.

A year ago today marks the day the hubs and I went from being a couple to being a family. We're those kind of people now, tripping on baby toys and cleaning stale Cheerios out of the car. And I would never want it any other way because that would mean we might not have her - our reward.

Happy Birthday, baby girl.