There he is, after almost twenty four hours of contractions, pitocin, and frustration. It all melts away seeing the little man that we'd prayed for!
I remember. . .
The nurses fussing over Daniel; they felt so bad for him, he'd been up all night, poor guy, here, why don't we make up a bed for you on the couch. . . *eye roll*
Me: "This is just not that bad! I don't know what all the fuss is about! Women must just be real wimps about this!" RN: (probably hiding her laughter) "Probably your contractions aren't truly bad then, if that's what you think."
How hungry I was. . . even the tuna sandwich commercial on TV looked good to me and I hate tuna! Beef broth and lime jello just didn't cut it!
Me: (twenty one hours into it) "I can't do this! Give me some Demerol! No, I don't want to do it natural anymore! Natural isn't working!"
RN: (as Josh Groban begins to bellow You Raise Me Up) "It's Josh! Now that's empowering!" I think she was relieved to finally hear something secular from my music selection.
Never forget. . .
Daniel's tears as he held his son.
That thank You, Jesus was all I could say, over and over.
His little face.
Precious, precious boy!
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