The fast and furious delivery.

It was a dream labor … until the very end. My water broke at home during a Saturday afternoon nap. We had time to pack, call on Michael’s parents to watch Gabriella, eat dinner, put Gabriella to bed and even have a cup of tea before heading to the hospital.

The drive to the hospital at 10pm on a Saturday night was quiet and easy. Not much traffic, even less contractions.

We checked into the hospital, learned my water had indeed broken (which was a relief, because I imagine the other option was that I’d been peeing myself for nine hours) and I was 2cm dilated.

I received pitocin and the contractions picked up. We watched March Madness followed by Saturday Night Live on a faraway television with horrible reception. I called for an epidural around 1am and 3cms dilated. Then the resident on duty turned off the television, closed the lights, told us to get some rest, she’d check on us in a couple hours.

Michael started snoring. I rested in between contractions, waited for the epidural to fully kick in. Around 3:30am, I couldn’t quietly breathe through the contractions anymore. Where was the pain-free post-epidural labor I had with Gabriella?

Michael was suddenly at my bedside, bleary eyed, telling me to call the nurse, stop being a hero. I called the nurse. She called the anesthesiologist, checked my cervix, pronounced me 9cms, no, 10cms dilated. Then the nurse asked if I wanted to push. Push? Aren’t I getting more pain medication? We were out of time. I cried (literally) then told myself (out loud) to get it together, which I never quite did.

The rest was not pretty, straight from the movies, downright primal. We were right next to the lobby and Michael later joked that any first-time mother checking in would immediately ask for a C-section upon hearing the noises coming from my labor and delivery room.

The nurse told me not to push until my next contraction. The doctor told me to wait so she could, well, get ready for delivery. Michael told me to breathe, put chin to chest. I ignored them all, quite vocally (but not before I instructed Michael to get the camera and the doctor to make sure my husband announced the baby’s gender).

Dominic arrived less than a half hour later at 4:11am on his sister's 21-month birthday. The nurse placed him on my chest and he curled into my skin—so soft, so warm, so peaceful. I just lay there—staring at my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful little boy—while the rest of the world temporarily ceased to exist.