On Wednesday morning at 3:47 a.m. my son was born.
The baby was not ready to be born even though it was well past time.
I had to be induced. And I wasn't really a good candidate for induction, but it's what needed to happen. So at midnight on Sunday we went to the hospital and began the process. We imagined that sometime on Monday we'd have our son.
On Monday we did not have our son. In fact, the induction stalled and we had to stop the process and start all over in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday. I had one meal - dinner on Monday night - before they started a new round of induction meds.
Tuesday in the early afternoon I went into labor. Finally. We were so happy! I have never been so excited to experience pain in my life. When the nurse came to check on us that afternoon I said, "This actually hurts!" with a huge smile on my face.
I was in light labor for a few hours before the nurse sent me out to walk around the maternity floor - you know, gravity, etc., etc.
On our second lap through the recovery wing my water broke.
Things get real when your water breaks. Let. Me. Tell. You. And pitocin doesn't exactly ease a person into the wonderful world of contractions. It's more like getting hit with a freight train. But when you want to meet your kid, you'll do just about anything without hesitating.
We labored for about 4 more hours after that with no pain medication and I just wasn't making the progress I needed to. So even though the plan was to go without pain meds, I went ahead with an epidural (one of my greatest fears, if I'm being honest). And we labored into the night after that. Somewhere during transition I realized that the meds were wearing off and the nurse told me that it was better to finish everything without being totally numb. So we let it wear off.
Around 1:40 it was time to push. I pushed for 2 hours and then our son was born.
I have never been in so much pain. I have never been so tired. And I have never been happier. Ever.
Fast forward 4 days.
We made it through the rest of our hospital stay and came home.
Like most new parents, we're learning at the speed of light. It's too much, too fast, all the time. For the past two nights we haven't slept in the Tullock house. Baby T. has been going through some tough times - you know, learning to digest and figuring out the difference between day and night.
This morning we were sitting in the living room. I was feeding the baby and my husband looked at me wearily from the kitchen. I was on the verge of tears - just exhausted - and I asked him if he would play "Rainbow Connection" from one of our piano books . . . mostly to make me feel better.
He sat down at the piano and he played song after song. And I started to cry . . . then I looked up and saw that he was crying, too.
Sometimes it's tough to be what you are.
Tough to be a parent.
Tough to be a baby (babies have lots of stuff to work out very quickly - being alive is serious business).
Tough to go without sleep.
Tough to trust that everything will take care of itself.
So when my husband got to "Green" in the Reader's Digest children's book, and we both were sitting there crying, I thought, "It's not easy being most things . . . . but it's so worth the difficulty."
Music is more beautiful.
Sunrises are more meaningful.
Family is more valuable.
Sleep is more precious (but I don't mind sacrificing it so that I can count my son's perfect little toes repeatedly while he curls up on my chest).
"It's not easy being green . . . but I think it's what I want to be."
It's not easy being Mom . . . but I think it's what I want to be.