This story begins on March 1, 2003 that morning. I slept in until noon, and then I took a nap, and then I wanted to go to bed at 8 pm. But I felt so lazy for wanting that. I chastised myself, did the dishes and then bent over to clean the bathroom floor. POP My water broke at 10 pm.
I remember hollering to my husband who was upstairs in his office listening to his too-loud music. I didn't want to do too much walking. Thankfully he heard me and we got in the car with lots of towels.
We rushed to the hospital even though contractions had not begun. I felt silly for driving to the hospital and fully expected to be sent home. But 15 minutes into the drive contractions began hard and fast, 90 second apart. And there they stayed for 12 long hours.
I had previously decided against an epidural. After all, I had heard that contractions start at 30 minutes apart, then 20 minutes, etc. It wasn't until active labor that they were close together. Well, someone forgot to tell my daughter and my body about how labor is supposed to go. After 5 hours of contractions 90 seconds apart and only 4 centimeters I gave in and got the epidural (and an enema, unfortunately). Finally I was able to sleep and rest. It was then that I realized I should have gone to bed at 8 pm like I had wanted. Obviously my body knew what it was doing and was trying to rest up for the big event.
Finally, the announcement was made "you are ten centimeters, lets push" So we pushed and pushed and pushed, for 2 hours. My little girl was already showing her true stubborn nature. The doctor realized how tired I was after laboring all night and decided to use a vacuum. Standard procedure for using a vacuum is to call the NICU so they are there 'just in case'. I heard my doctor request the NICU staff and I panicked! What was wrong with my baby?! I started to cry and I could no longer push.
My husband, God bless him, was wonderful. He looked at me and made me focus on our baby. I stopped paying attention to what the nurses were doing, especially the NICU nurses who were idly chit-chatting about their children, and focused on pushing.
Finally, I heard it. At 11:31 am on Sunday, March 2, 2003 "It's a girl!" I was so shocked. For nine months I had convinced myself the baby was a boy, everyone told me that I was carrying like a boy, I promised my husband his first-born would be a boy. I was so surprised that I actually checked.
Her head was perfectly round. No wonder she wouldn't come out. That stubborn little girl's head never collapsed and became cone-shaped. What a stinker! The nickname stuck. She is still my stinky little girl.