March 30 was my first day of labor. I was induced. Not for any immediate medical reason and not for a really good reason other than I didn't want to have a 9 or 10lb baby without my mom beside me. I asked and the doctor said he didn't see any reason why we couldn't. So to the charge nurses dismay we went about enticing my little preacher to come on out. Within a few hours I was having good contractions everything was going perfectly. I slept, I walked around, I read my bible, I sang hymns. Tim worked on homework and talked to his sister who was coming up from San Diego to welcome Johnny when he came. But he didn't come.
March 31 my second day of labor. I was in back labor by this point and had asked for an epidural around 3 am to help with the discomfort, completely convinced that by that evening I would be holding my baby. But that mornings exam left the nurses scratching their heads... no progress. By that evening two separate friends had their babies. All three of us had the same due date. I was regretting my decision by this point and apologizing to Tim for being so type A. Tim prayed with me and encouraged me that wanting to meet Johnny and actually be able to breathe were good reasons to want to induce. At 4 pm we turned off the Pitocin and turned my epidural down to a 2 from an 11. Contractions continued normally without help, which encouraged Dr. Frields and all the nurses.
April 1 my third day of labor and the end game. At 1 am I was woken by the absolute worst pain I've ever had the displeasure to feel. My left knee felt as if it were about to explode. In my mind could see the pressure building to critical mass. Three ice packs, a turned up epidural, and a negative dvt sonogram later. I asked if we could amputate and avoid the possibility of that pain returning much to my nurses amusement. We didn't. Aaaand guess what still no progress, my little prince would not come no matter what (Thanks for nothing, Snow White). Dr. Frields came, around 3 am, and talked to us, after delivering two babies that morning, and said if no progress had been made that we would have to have a C-section delivery. Which I was completely for by that time. By noon I was being prepped for surgery and at 12:50 I was taken back to delivery. It was as they put me on the table that I had the horrible realization that my epidural had slipped and was no longer effective (that is what was causing my knee pain). I told the anesthesiologist and we waited for the Dr. to come in and help us make the final decision, even though in all reality we knew general anesthesia was it.
Tim did though. Tim was there the whole time. Tim was there when Johnny breathed his first breath and Tim held him first, Tim was the first to comfort him, snuggle him and need him. And as sad as I am that I missed all of those firsts I am so thankful, so, so, so, very thankful that Tim got them instead of me. I thank Jesus for Tim. I thank God for having the wisdom to ordain that Tim would be the first person in Johns life. Because, Tim spent the first six weeks of his sons life working hard at school to succeed in his studies, Tim didn't get to bond exclusively with John like I did. Tim didn't get to wake up in the dead of night to cuddle and feed John like I did, or to sit around the house with John praying and reading the bible like I did, Tim didn't get all the messy diapers, or bath times, or even Johns first smiles because Tim was sacrificing that time for the One who gave us John in the first place.
For the master
