At one o'clock I tried to put Luke down for a nap and get in the shower, but the noise of the shower kept him awake. When Luke was still awake at two o'clock and my contractions were seven minutes apart I called your Grandma and she came and picked up Luke so that I could get some rest...because it seemed as though you were determined to arrive in the upright world. I also called my Mom at school and told her I thought I was in labor...but not to get too excited because I figured it might still be a while.
I was still skeptical that labor could be this easy. I was uncomfortable, but only for a minute or so out of every ten minutes. Plus the contractions were not perfectly spaced, and for some reason I expected they would be exactly 7 minutes apart and then exactly five minutes apart, etc. But when I took a shower they slowed down to 20 minutes apart, and when I laid down they slowed down again. I was impatient for you to come, so I put on my walking shoes, grabbed the cordless phone (in case I got stranded in pain) and walked down Roadrunner Bay, around Barracuda Bay and home again. Twice while I was walking I had to stop and push on my back to get through a contraction. Twice I had to stop and wipe off my glasses because the cold mist was blowing in my face. That was the last time I wore my yellow jacket while I was pregnant and I still managed to get it all the way zipped!
I got through the rest of the afternoon by leaning over the exercise ball on the living room floor with "Da Vinci Code" on the floor in front of me. At 5pm my contractions were four minutes apart and starting to get painful enough that I was starting to get scared...remembering the pain and hard work that still lay ahead. I called your Dad in tears at his office and asked him to come home. He said he would just finish the day out and come right home. At 5:45 Derek was home and my contractions were hard enough that I couldn't talk or walk through them anymore. I found leaning my tailbone back against the corner of a door jamb felt really good whenever a contraction really started to hurt. Your Dad made macaroni and cheese and some hot dogs to sustain us since we still didn't know how long it could be before you arrived. We managed to polish off an entire box between the two of us before we called people to tell them we were off to the hospital. We called your Grandma and Papa, and Grammy and Grandpa. I talked to my Mom for a less than ten minutes and had two contractions and she said, "Get off the phone and go to the hospital!" I was still worried that we'd show up at the hospital and be told I was 3 cm dilated...the same as the morning.
We got to the hospital at 6:45 and I managed to walk in from the parking lot, get checked in, and walk the flight of stairs to the maternity ward all on my own steam. I had to stop a few times to get through a contraction, but your Dad held my hand and our hospital bag and we got all settled into room 36, looking North out the window to the field of alfalfa that had just been mown when your brother Luke was born, but was now just a short green field. The sun managed to come out, and the clouds broke up so we could see lovely blue sky. As soon as I was gowned up the nurse checked me and I was 6cm! Everyone got high fives, even the nurses, because I was thrilled that my labor all afternoon had actually done something. We checked on you too, and your heart rate was healthy and strong.
The nurse suggested we have the doctor break my water, and less than ten minutes later my water was broken. By 7:30 my contractions were right on top of one another and by 8 I was ready to push. The nurses kept checking me and telling me not to push yet. For forty-five minutes I begged to push as I gratefully gasped at the nitrous oxide mask. Finally the doctor was informed that I wanted to push, the nurse had him check me himself and he said, "Let her push, man!" Instead of gasping into the mask I gasped out, "Thank-you thank-you thank-you thank-you" until a contraction came along and at LAST I pushed. Fifteen minutes later and four contractions more and we discovered you were not a Penelope...but a Boy.
We didn't have a boy name picked out! All your papers said, "Baby Boy Thiessen" until we left the hospital. As soon as you were born and I had cuddled you for a while, your Dad made some phone calls to the grandparents and then the nurses ran out of the room...there were three more births on the floor in the next half hour. A busy night for the hospital. When our nurse finally came back, we found out you were 7lb, 13oz, and 21 inches long. I convinced the nurse to let me shower (she was worried I would be woozy) and put on some clean jammies. I felt fabulous once I was clean, and your Dad was happy to hold you while I took an extra long shower. Then at 11pm you and I were left alone so Dad could go home and get a good night sleep in his own bed and take care of the dog. Your big brother Luke spent the night with Grandma and Papa.
I couldn't sleep knowing that you were nameless - and I kept accidentally calling you Luke. So I stayed up brainstorming with you in my lap. I dozed a bit in the rocking chair, and when I nursed you, you latched on right away. I knew immediately that you were intelligent. I should have known right away that you were a social guy, too. You loved all the visitors we had the next day...starting with your Dad.
Your visitors at the hospital were numerous and for posterity I will list them: Luke, Grandma, Papa, Karen Toews, your auntie Celeste, Wendy and Kaylyn, pastor Gerald and Bev, Mark & Katie and their two boys, Greg & Beth and Cordell, your auntie Megan, and auntie Jaime.
Everyone was so happy to meet you. And you were handsome and charming. Everyone wondered who you look like..."Does he look like Luke did?" "Does he look like a Bergen?" I'm pretty sure you pooped on several of your visitors (in your diaper), but everyone was so happy to meet you that they didn't complain. You still poop on me several times a day and instead of being grossed out, it just makes me smile. I love you wonderfully, terribly, hugely. And it started last August, the day I found out you were growing inside me. When the doctor showed me the pink strip I jumped up and down and the doctor threw up his hands and said, "Gently, gently!" in his South African accent. When I told your Dad a few minutes later I was crying with joy and he hugged me and said, "That's wonderful!"
