Rigby James Norman: 6lbs 8 oz. on April 12, 2011 at 7:26 pm

Our beautiful baby boy is here. 

And he is perfect.

Seriously, I look at him, and I know rationally that it isn't really possible that he is the most beautiful baby on the planet.  But that's what I see. 

Every time we go down to see him in the NICU, he gets more and more handsome.  All the pictures I have on this computer right now are from his first 12 hours, and I promise he just gets cuter as time passes. I will eventually get more pics up.

James nailed it on the head this morning when he said this to our NICU nurse:
"I never understood why my siblings took hundreds and hundreds of pictures of their babies before.  Now I understand."

It's awesome to watch James be enamored of his baby.

We have to bargain with each other for who gets how much kangaroo-care (skin-to-skin) time with him.  Although, with James, he says it's more like Grizzly Bear (skin to hairy chest) care :)

So, here's the story:
Around 6 p.m. on Monday night, they took us down to Labor and Delivery to start administering the drug that would soften my cervix.  Neither James nor I could really sleep a wink. James was excited and sleeping on a bench.  I was nervous out of my MIND.  Needless to say, by the time morning arrived, we were both basically miserable, running on NO sleep and nerves.

At 9 a.m., they started administering pitocen to start my labor.  I was at 1 c.m. at 90% effaced...

FOUR HOURS LATER, I was still at 1 c.m. and 90% effaced.  Every half hour, they would up the pitocen to no effect.  It was infuriating.  I was horribly crampy, but the monitor showed no real contractions, it just stayed at a higher than normal level.  Gradually, this got more and more painful.  Finally, my doctor came in and broke my water (whereas before it had only been leaking) and put an internal monitor to see if I really wasn't contracting at all.  The new monitor revealed that basically, I never stopped contracting.  Wave upon wave upon wave of contractions were hitting me with no respite in between.  Within the hour, I was begging for the epidural.  If you know me and needles, this is somewhat ironic. 

I have to say, the anesthesiologist was an all-star.  I really didn't feel much at all, and never had to see what was going on.  James, on the other hand, had a front row seat to the epidural needle show, and nearly passed out! Fortunately, I was too distracted by contractions to notice ALL the blood drain from his face.  Otherwise, I might have gotten worried.

About an hour after my epidural, the nurse checked me again.  I was sure there could not have been all that much progress.  I was wrong.  I was 5 c.m.

An hour later, I was 9 c.m.

Twenty minutes later, it was time to push.

I will say this: in my humble opinion, epidurals are one of the greatest inventions of our time.  Labor was hard work, but doable.  I can't imagine what it would have been like trying to do that work while dealing with the pre-epidural pain.  I have INCREDIBLE respect for my female ancestors that managed to do so; I just don't really envision myself ever doing so after this experience.

After a few "practice" pushes, they quickly wheeled me into the Operating Room where I would deliver Rigby.  It had a pass-through window to the NICU where his teams of nurses awaited his arrival, as well.

About 20 minutes later, Rigby made his grand entrance.  It was completely surreal.  My doctor laid him on my stomach where James and I gazed at him in disbelief for about a minute.  Then, swiftly they whisked him away to NICU. 

I could hardly believe I had a baby.  The epidural was still going strong, so I didn't FEEL like I'd just delivered a baby, plus there was no baby to be seen.  This was incredibly weird.  I didn't feel like I'd had the chance to absorb the fact that he was really real. 

James did, though.  Pretty quickly afterward, James got to go to NICU and see our baby boy.
His head was a little lop-sided from my pushing, as was his nose.  Rigby had tricked our doctor into thinking he was turned the correct way - towards my spine.  Turns out he was pointed upwards, and as a result, had a bit of a jostle with my pubic bone.  James took tons of pictures, and hurried back to the room to show me.

It was like looking at a stranger. I still wasn't absorbing who this little person was.  He definitely had the same mouth as all my baby pictures.  And dark hair like us.  And a high forehead like us.  But I didn't know him. 

I finally got to hold my baby a few hours later, after multiple examinations and prodding.  By now, I was loopy from exhaustion and pain killers.  But I finally felt  something; a underlying connection between me and this little pink-faced baby who looked at James and I with an expression of consternation and confusion. 

Every time I've gone to the NICU since, that feeling has swelled to greater proportions.  There is nothing more heavenly than having my sweet Rigby fall asleep on my chest.  The fact that my heartbeat, smell and voice calm him, and raise his oxygen saturation higher is one of the most contented, fulfilling feelings I've ever had in my life. And I get a lifetime of this. 

Well... maybe not a lifetime of kangaroo-care.  But a lifetime of him. 
And I couldn't be happier.