A Week Ago


A week ago, we headed to the doctor for our 40 week appointment. I convinced Sam to put the hospital bag, camera, and car seat into the car just in case they sent us straight to the hospital after the doctor’s visit. He humored me, but he knew it wasn’t time yet.

A week ago, at 40 weeks and 3 days, we walked into the same doctor’s office that we walked into today. Last week, we had an ultrasound and found out that Baby H was estimated to be 8.5 lbs., and that he was head down getting ready for delivery. This week, three of us walked into the doctor’s office.

A week ago, we sat on the same couch in the waiting room. I leaned on Sam’s shoulder every 8-10 minutes as the pre-labor contractions came and went. Today, I leaned on his shoulder and peered down into a baby carrier and into Baby Ben’s blue eyes.

A week ago, Sam was right, and we headed back to the parking lot to our car to head home with the explanation that if something happened before 6 am on Thursday morning to come to the hospital, but if not, to come to the hospital, so that the induction process could be started.

A week ago, Sam tried desperately to entertain me and detain me from walking to the hospital as back labor was added to the contractions I had been feeling all morning. A week ago, we walked around Target, Panera, and the parking lot trying to do all those things you are supposed to do before you go to the hospital and to avoid going to the hospital and being sent back home.

A week ago, we came back home and made it until 3 am on Thursday morning when my water broke, and I finally had the reason I needed to head to the hospital.

A week ago, we checked into the hospital at 4 am and made our home in a labor and delivery room knowing that we would soon meet our baby. A week ago, I received an epidural and a drip to keep labor progressing. A week ago, as the medicine kicked in, I was able to rest for the first time in 24 hours.

A week ago, Sam sat by my side hour after hour as we waited and welcomed each happy report that “things were moving along.” A week ago, we talked and predicted and bet about what time he would be born. A week ago, we received the report that the illusive 10 cm had been reached, and it was time to practice push. A week ago, I looked at Sam and said, “Finally.”

A week ago, we waited between practice pushing sessions for the doctor who was “just next door finishing another delivery” and wondered why they got to go first. A week ago, the doctor came to tell us that we were back down to 8 cm and that it was time to start talking about the possibility of having a C-section because Baby H was turned to the side a little bit.

A week ago, Sam held my hand as I cried because I was so ready to see our baby and simultaneously uneasy and nervous and scared about having major surgery and not knowing what all that entailed. A week ago, Sam looked at me and said, “It’s ok. This is what he needs us to do.”

A week ago, they rolled me across the hallway into the OR and Sam sat by my head and whispered that we were so close to getting to see Baby H. A week ago, we heard a cry that meant Baby H was finally here.


A week ago, we met Baby H who we started calling Big Ben because he weighed 8 lbs 7 oz and was 20.5 inches long. A week ago, I fell in love with Sam all over again for being by my side and for being my rock and for being Big Ben’s dad. A week ago, I was left speechless by the miraculous power of life and birth and breath in our baby boy.

What a difference a week makes.