Five years ago today:
I've been in active, induced labor for more than a day, at the end of thirteen weeks of bedrest. They've already turned the pitocin off once because the hospital is busy and babies are being born in the hallway (really). Some time from now, we will lose my son's heartbeat for more than three minutes, but I don't know that yet.
We will lose his heartbeat, and the first resident to arrive in the room will have to put her head between her knees, and dh will collapse against the wall behind him, and a fellow and another resident will rock me back and forth, trying to keep me breathing the oxygen, trying to find his heartbeat and trying to prevent me from hyperventilating. The doctors will reject the option of a c-section. We can't find a heartbeat, we can't have anethesthesia. But I don't know any of that yet.
I'm foolishly saying, "Too bad he couldn't wait 'til Cinco de Mayo."
Happy Quatro de Mayo. One more solid day of labor to go.