I couldn't wait to be a mom, but we waited five years to try anyway.  I was so happy and excited to be giving birth the first time, and I really wanted to have a homebirth.  My husband wasn't comfortable with it, though, and I respected his feelings and found a doctor I felt I could accept.  I had a great, normal pregnancy until I was eight months pregnant. 

I had gotten a second job (I was a nanny during the week) filing radiology files at a local hospital.  They weigh up to 40 pounds apiece!  I was enjoying the work and feeling good, but noticed around my last 8-month checkup that I was having a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions.  I mentioned it to the doctor who decided to check me after I told him about the job (hee hee).  I was 50% effaced, but not dilated.  He was going to send me home, but he wanted to check and see if I was contracting first.  I guess he didn't think I was, because it really seemed he wasn't worried till he hooked me up to the monitor.  I was having contractions, and that worried him.  He thought maybe I was dehydrated, because he knew I had a hard time getting enough fluids.  (I always have dark pee, and can't remember to drink something every hour.)  He hooked me up to an IV and gave me a full bag of fluids.  Then he told me I could go home.  I felt like a puffer fish, I was swelled up so bad. 

That night, I had my breast-feeding class.  My sister-in-law came with me (I think hubby was sleeping), and I began having regular contractions about the same time of night they always came.  We timed them during the class, and after it was over, called the doctor on call.  I went in so they could check me.  This was a female resident, and she felt that I was 50% effaced and 1 cm dilated.  Since it seemed I was making progress with my Braxton-Hicks, she gave me some drugs to stop labor, and told me to go in to the office the next day.  Another female doctor checked me the next day, and I was the same dilation/effacement.  They determined that the drugs must be working, and put me on complete bed rest until 36 weeks.  I was to take the drugs the entire time. 

I hated those drugs.  Every time I took them I felt like I was going to die, so I went to bed and slept them off.  I stopped taking them the second week.  I really didn't feel I was going to all of a sudden have the baby.  My doctor had said they wouldn't stop it if this were "real" labor. 

When I went in for my next checkup, the doctor seemed disconcerted that I would go off the meds without consulting him.  But since I was at 36 weeks, and it was safe to have the baby now, he stripped my membranes and said, "Maybe we'll have this baby in a couple of days."  He had explained what he was doing and why, and I had agreed to it.  I think I felt like I had been in expectation of the baby after all those contractions, and wanted to get it out.  I wouldn't have done it if I could change things, but I ended up not having the baby after each time he stripped the membranes.  (He did it at every checkup.)  I would have contractions at night, call the doctor on call, and be told "It's not real labor unless you can't walk/talk through your contractions."  I went in one night and was checked.  I was 3 cm dilated and 50% effaced.  The doctor told me it was early labor, and to go home and get some sleep.  The only contractions that ever hurt me (including during my baby's birth) were the ones I got when I tried castor oil inducement...

I went into labor on my own on a Friday night.  I was so tired of being teased; I didn't think it could be real labor, so I went to bed.  I knew it was for real this time when I woke up and was still having contractions.  This is the day, I thought.  My mom and dad (who lived with us at the time) took me for a drive after I called the doctor.  He had said to labor at home for a little while and then he would meet me at the hospital.  Dad drove over every pothole he could find, and if it gave me a good contraction, he backed up and went over it again.  When we got back to the house, my brother (who was going to call everyone for us when the baby came) told us the doctor had called and wondered where I was.  He was waiting for me at the hospital.  I must have misunderstood our previous conversation! 

We got ready and went into the hospital at 2pm.  I was 4cm dilated and 75% effaced.  The doctor asked if he could break my water, just to make sure "this was it".  I agreed.  I felt that if things didn't continue, they'd just send me home again.  I walked and sat on a birthing ball, tried the shower, rocked in the rocking chair.  I tried to stay out of the bed as long as possible.  Later, when I got in the shower, I felt like the baby was going to fall out, so I wanted to get on the bed.  I was about 7cm then.  We raised the back of the bed, and I kneeled on the bed and leaned into the back of it with my arms draped over the back.  This was the most comfortable for me, and it was heaven when hubby did counterpressure on my back.  I think he nearly broke his wrist trying to press hard enough.  We figured out I had been in back labor, and that was why I couldn't get comfortable.  I did some pelvic rocking movements, and felt the baby turn and she literally dropped into place on my perineum.  My body was pushing, and it felt like when you throw up.  Your body just takes over and the muscles heave!  I was amazed at how powerful it was.

They told me I could push with it if I wanted to, and then they told me to STOP!  Baby's head crowned.  I was told to flip over so the nurse could break down the bed for delivery, and the doctor was called.  My original doctor had been called away unexpectedly 1 hour before I started pushing.  My original intention (listed in my birth plan) had been to push in an upright position.  Not being allowed to push upright was the only disappointment I had.  I pushed through one contraction, and with the next, she was born.  It was 7:33pm.  She came out with her hand next to her cheek, and the doctor didn't know what to do.  He looked like he wanted to push the hand back in, but knew that wasn't right, either.  He sat with his hands up until the body came, then he had to catch.  I had one first degree tear, right between the vaginal opening and the anus.  It took a long time to heal after being stitched.  The only drug I accepted was the Lidocain for them to stitch me up.  I feel that if I had been allowed to continue pushing in my upright position, leaning into the back of the bed, I more than likely would have avoided the tear. 

An hour after she was born, I turned to my hubby and said, "We could do this again." He said, "Yeah, we could do this again," with a great big smile on his face.