One Year Ago...

I wrote this shortly after Peyton's entrance into the world.

January 12, 2010 (Tuesday)

It started out like any other pregnant Tuesday - I "woke up" after lying awake all night, enduring the constant agony of a perpetually growing stomach and the neverending discomfort of Peyton doing cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel after cartwheel....

Martin and I roused ourselves at 6am (Peyton was already up doing cartwheels), dressed/make-uped ourselves, and suffered the especially frigid winter temperatures on our long, miserable, and angry drives into downtown DC for what was expected to be yet another uneventful and dreadful day at the office.

I had been to the doctor less than a week prior for my 37 week appointment. Although I was looking more and more like I swallowed a basketball, Dr. Walker (one of five doctors at the practice) told me I was zero inches dialted, zero percent effaced, and nothing appeared to be moving. "Hang in there - nothing is happening anytime soon," she said.

My day at work was typical -I snuck out to the gym in the morning for a slow 30 minute pass on the elliptical, and met my friend Ashley Slater for lunch at Founding Farmers. It was bitterly cold and windy outside, and although I was officially term, I was rocking four inch platform heels. I ate a fried chicken salad with freshly squeezed lemonade, and waddled back to the office. Upon returning, I started to feel a little tired, and noticed a small twinge in my stomach. Nothing too impressive though since I had been feeling all sorts of odd twinges and pings the last several weeks.

I left the office at 5 - early for me - because I was feeling a little off and having some minor cramping. Martin informed me he would be staying at work late - until 9 or 10 - to clear some things off his desk before the baby came. As I sat in traffic on my way home, I the cramping seemed to come and go fairly consistently. Because I had nothing better to do as I sat idle amongst the other commuters on the 395, I began watching the clock and timing the pains. Interesting, I thought. They were hitting every ten minutes. I emailed Martin to let him know this seemed odd, but told him it was likely nothing and I would see him at home later.

At about 6 I arrived home. I changed out of my uncomfortable winter tights and maternity dress, and into some cozy sweats. I was supposed to take a heparin shot (an injection into my stomach to prevent blood clots), but even though the thought of being in labor had not entered my mind, something told me to skip it just in case. The Doctor warned me if I took it too close to having the baby, I wouldn't be able to get the epidural. Better safe than sorry.

I cooked dinner - honey dijon crusted chicken and a garden salad - and as I was putzing around the kitchen, I kept a timer on my iphone running to record the cramps. They didn't hurt badly, so I assumed they were braxton hicks. But, after an hour, I looked at the log on my phone and they were coming consistenlty - about six minutes apart - for an hour. I emailed Martin again, and we discussed whether or not he should head home. I also texted my neighbor Amy Richards, who just two months prior had a baby girl. I asked her what contractions felt like, and described that I was having cramps every five minutes but it wasn't terribly painful. She said it could be promising but the pain should be a lot worse.

Slowing starting to be convinced that your birth might be approaching, and getting slightly nervous, I needed to keep myself busy while I waited it out. So, I cleaned up the kitchen, saved Martin a plate, and took a shower. If I was in labor, who knew how long it would be before I got to wash my hair. And, I really wanted to have somewhat fresh makeup on for the first family pictures.

At about 8:45, as I was blow drying my hair, Martin arrived home. The pains were getting more intense, and unlike before, I was having to stop what I was doing when they came. As Martin ate dinner, he called the doctor's office. Dr. Kusik called back and said although the pains were coming consistently (about every four minutes), he didn't believe I was in labor. this was my first baby, and I had no progress at my last appointment, he explained. Regardless, he wanted me to come to the hospital to get checked out, but he anticipated we would be sent home.

Nerves started to set in - we weren't fully packed for the hospital yet. Martin and I threw the last remaining items into our hospital bag, and I waited at the bottom of the stairs while he poured himself a diet coke for the road (I'm not joking). As we drove on the beltway, the contractions started to get extremely painful. Martin sped up, although neither of us was 100% convinced this was actually the real deal. While driving, we called our parents to let them know we were headed to the hospital, but assured them this was probably a false alarm.

Upon arriving at Inova Fairfax hospital, Martin dropped me off and parked the car. The security officer at the front desk asked me if I was in labor. "I don't know. Maybe," I responded. As soon as Martin got inside, she sent us upstairs to labor and delivery.

Once checked in and changed into my hospital gown, a nurse checked my vital signs and asked several questions about how I was feeling. I really had to go to the bathroom, but the nurse wouldn't let me because she said being in labor sometimes make you feel the urge to push, and she didn't want me to accidentally push the baby into the toilet. Really?

Dr. Kusic met us in the "staging room" - a series of beds where they examine pregnant women to determine if they are in fact in labor. He looked at my freshly done hair and newly applied makeup and said, "I can tell by the way you look you aren't in labor.". As we talked, I winced during a contraction. He said he saw the pain on my face and would do an exam to make sure nothing was happening.

Within seconds, Dr. Kusak informed us that I was about three centimeters dialated, and we would be having a baby in the next day. Martin immediatelty called all parents, and I began a desperate plea for the anestesiologist. There was a brief moment of panic when the nurses said some doctors won't administer the epidural to a patient who had taken a heparin shot within 24 hours (I took my morning shot at 7am). But thankfully, the doctor working that night operated under the 12 hour rule.

Dr. Kusak explained that since this was my first baby, he guessed I would labor for 24 hours and would be giving birth around dinner time the next day. He said he would be on duty for the remainder of the night, but Dr. Hou would be delivering you.

At about 11pm, we were moved out of the staging area and into our private labor and delivery suite - a nice sized room with a bay window and a decent sleeping chair for Martin.

Nurses hooked me up to what seemed like a dozen monitoring machines - most importantly was the baby heart monitor belt. Your heart was beating strong. The only cpncerning matter was the monitors listed "Gonzales" as the patient's name. We asked to have it fixed, but the nurses said it wasn't important.

January 13, 2010 (Wednesday)

At about midnight, the anestesiologist arrived with the magic juice. By the point, the contractions were coming every minute, were quite painful, and were lasting about a minute long. Although I was terrified of actually getting the epidural, there was no way I would be able to bear the contractions if they got any worse. I'm no hero - and although I have a high threshold for pain, I figured there was no reason to be in agony if I didn't have to be. The anastesiologist was amazing - he explained everything he was doing, and calmly administered the medicine. I barely felt a thing. And once the magic juice took over, I was in heaven. I couldn't feel my legs or stomach, which meant Martin and I were able to settle in for the night and try to get some rest. The doctor said we would have a long day of labor and pushing ahead of us, and the more sleep we got the better.

Dr. Kusak checked my progress once more, and said he was surprised how quickly things were progressing. He amended his dinner time birth estimate to around noon. He said no need to give me pitocin - my body was doing everything perfectly on its own. He broke my water (which I didn't feel), and said he would be back to check me one last time before Dr. Hou started his shift.

The Conan O'Brien/Jay Leno scandal was heating up, and Martin and I watched a few segments of the Late Show before trying to doze off. Except for the frequent interruptions by the nurses to check my blood pressure and your heart rate, Martin and I slept pretty well.

At about 5:45am, Dr. Kusak returned as promised to check my progress. To all of our surprise, he said it was time to push. He was just as shocked as Martin and I - we all thought you wouldn't be born until much later in the day.

I asked if I could put my contacts in, but the doctor wouldn't allow it. I think he thought I would freak out if I saw too clearly what was going on.

The nurses were ready, Martin was ready, and with out much hoopla, at exactly 6am, the doctor told me to to push as a contraction came. I pushed with everything I had. It didn't hurt - the epidural was still doing its magic. I wasn't screaming. I was just concentrating on doing exactly what the doctors told me to do, so I could get you out as soon as possible so I could see you and meet you. Martin was wonderful. He held my leg, encouraged me, and looked as excited as I've ever seen him.

At 6:29am, after pushing through just five contractions, you were born. Peyton Kristen Hellmer - 7 pounds, 15 ounces, 20 1/4 inches long. They put you on my chest and although I had hoped to say something poignant and profound, all I could say was "you're so slippery."

I held you for a few minutes before they took you to clean you off and make sure you were healthy. Dad watched the nurses every move as they weighed you, checked your lungs, and ultimately said you were the picture of health.


You barely cried. The nurses commented on what a quiet, peaceful baby you were. You let out a tiny little squeak which melted our hearts. Daddy was beaming with pride. I was smitten.