And then The Boy arrived

And just like that, the waiting was over.

Here’s our little man.

Crosby Dean, born in the very early morning hours (2:14 a.m.) of Halloween day, Monday, October 31, tipping the scales at a shocking 9 lbs 6 oz and 21 inches long.

The events surrounding his birth were unexpectedly unexpected. The first signs of his arrival began on Saturday night, when I started having contractions every 10 minutes for 2 hours. We packed up, got ourselves and the house in order and called the doctor, who advised me to wait until the contractions were 8 minutes apart before heading in. As soon as I hung up the phone, the contractions stopped. I went to bed feeling disappointed and a bit like The Little Girl Who Cried Labor.

The next day started like any other – breakfast, playing with Addy and ordering artwork for The Boy’s room. By late morning, the contractions had returned. After the previous night’s fake out, I blew them off and didn’t bother timing them. By 4:00, the contractions had moved from slight discomfort to straight up pain, and I started telling Joey every time I felt one. They were 4-6 minutes apart.

The night before, our preparations for the hospital were cool, calm and organized. Addy had already gone to bed, we were showered, dressed and packed in minutes. This time, I hadn’t yet showered, Addy was running around the house refusing to wear diapers or use the potty, Joey had just put a whole chicken in the oven for dinner and the house was in total disarray. Plus, both sets of grandparents were away from home and unable to watch Addy for at least another 20-30 minutes. And that’s how we knew it was the real deal. Little in our lives happens in an organized way. That’s become our norm. So of course the arrival of our baby boy would come with some panic, profanities and mild hysteria.

Once my parents arrived, we jumped in the car. I, of course, was in tears, just like last time, crying over the life I was leaving, but mostly for the upheaval we were about to bring to our daughter. After 15 minutes of sobbing, I pulled myself together and let excitement take over. After all, I had done this before and it had been “easy.”

We arrived at the hospital around 7:00 pm. I was 4 cm dilated. Got an epidural around 9:45 at 5 cm dilated. By midnight I was starting to feel ready to push. At 1 am, I was 10 cm and the doctor on-call (not my regular doc) said it was time. With relief, I got to it, and since my first baby only required about 15-20 minutes of pushing, I thought I’d have the job done quickly. But I hadn’t anticipated that the baby within me was 2.5 lbs heavier than my first (Addy was a demure 7 lb 1oz).

When the doctor left the room after my first few pushes, I knew I was in for a long haul. There were words of encouragement coming at me when I expected cries of “There’s the head!” I was fighting to make progress, and didn’t understand why getting this baby out was so different and difficult. It took every ounce of strength I had to get Crosby’s head out, and there were several moments of desperation, as I struggled to catch my breath through the pain (despite an epidural), when I did not think I could do it. I am in complete awe of the women who do this without drugs.

The craziest part about delivering a baby with an epidural is that even though the pain is numbed, you can still feel the various parts of your child exiting your body. I knew where his head was, knew the relief that would come once it was out. Again, I’ve never worked so hard for something in my life, fighting my own body’s limits of what it would willingly do for me. After an hour of pushing, my son was born.

I got to hold him immediately, an experienced I missed with Addy, and it was amazing. Even then it didn’t register that the baby clutched to my chest was far from tiny. All I could feel was relief – relief that it was over, relief that we had both made it and that he was healthy.

When the nurse took him to clean him up and weigh him, I didn’t think twice. I expected a number similar to Adeline’s – 7 lbs and X number of ounces. When I heard her say 9 lbs 6 oz, I figured I heard her wrong cause there’s no way a baby that size could’ve come from my body. I have a petite frame and alway believed my body couldn’t house something larger than a small to average size child. But it had. We were all stunned, doctors included. And I still am.

I am amazed that I grew such a big baby and that I got him out. But the most amazing part is that I didn’t rip or require an episiotomy, and I am so grateful to my doctor for that, though his assistance in helping get the baby out hurt like hell at the time.

And his name? We chose it 2 hours before he was born from a list of 9. The other options: Cooper, Finley, Sullivan, Miller, Grayson, Foster, Charlie and Max. Crosby was one of the first names we talked about it. Joey suggested it one night after hearing some football player with the same name. I didn’t like it at first, but it grew on me so much that even as we drove to the hospital, it felt like the right choice.

And that’s the story of how Crosby Dean (his dad’s middle name) came into the world. Right from the start, he’s been a boy filled with surprises. Now it’s on to entering the real world, one where nurses don’t change his diapers or bring me juice in bed. We’re heading home shortly, where a toddler, dishes, laundry and a home awaits. I am excited, scared and nervous for all that comes next, but mostly joyful about the new addition that’s joining us. More to come.

• ← 40 weeks, and I only just realized now that I have balls
• I cried for 3 days and then fell in love →