We started off enthusiastic...

My water broke at 630am on January 13th, I was waddling around the apartment trying to get ready to go to the hospital without dribbling amniotic fluid everywhere. Finally, I shake Eric awake for the third time and tell him that I'm ready to go to the hospital with or without him. We head there and are immediately admitted; we're in a labor and delivery (L&D) room by noon. We've texted everyone on the phone tree, called immediate family and are thanking our lucky stars we took those birthing classes-- at least we were until my nurses informed me since my contractions weren't picking up I'd need Pitocin. For those of you unfamiliar with what Pitocin is, it's a synthetic Oxytocin used to promote contractions. Since my water had a gross break, they didn't want to risk me having a dry birth. My contractions started to speed up and I thought "okay I can do this!"; a nurse came in to check my dilation and offer an epidural which I refused. Then, my contractions went from mildy uncomfortable like severe period cramps to unbelievably painful like someone crushing my uterus like a coke can, and it happened over the course of an hour. I'm writhing on the bed trying to get through each individual contraction, staring at the clock thinking "only ten more seconds. it won't last forever". Before I know it the nurse lets me know I can bring my knees up and start pushing; I start to do so and immediately lay down flat, doing so hurts even worse than the contractions up to that point which was unfathomable to me. At this point my memory gets fuzzy because I didn't black out but I was so focused on getting him out I don't know what happened in the next half hour. Eric tells me I didn't scream or cuss anyone out, I went for his throat but he's sure I was just trying to get his shoulder to squeeze. Half an hour later, they plop Charlie onto my stomach and go to work getting my downstairs ready for post partum (PP) hang out. Charlie was this grey little person, he didn't cry he was just gasping for air, his little fingers opening and closing. Eric was crying from the moment he started crowning because he could see his hair. I grabbed Charlie and started rubbing his arms and his head trying to get him to cry while Eric cut the cord. The nurses took him to the warmer to clean him and measure him while Eric is congratulating me on pushing him out so quickly without pain meds. Then I hear the nurses saying "10.2" to each other and I'm trying to focus because I'm convinced it's hospital code for "there's something wrong with this baby/mother"; I get the attention of a nurse and ask what the "10.2" is and she tells me it's my baby's weight. I was blown away! There hadn't been any indications that my boy was going to be that huge! Eric goes out to let our family know what's going on in the hall while the doctor finishes sewing me up and a nurse starts a fundal massage (which btw was freaking weird and slightly painful). After he's wiped off and wrapped up, they give him to me and I try to bond with him in the hour I've got before they whisk him off to nursery. Eric goes with him to nursery and I'm taken to my PP room; once there I send the necessary texts and think about what I've just been through. People come and go and eventually Charlie is brought back into my room; I start feeding him and marveling at how tiny he is at the same time as being a huge baby. It's late when Eric and I are ready to call it a night, the adrenaline from the day finally wearing off, and we slip him into his hospital bassinet only for him to rouse a few minutes later howling. To this day, his crying stresses me out, I hate it and so I immediately am up and trying to see what he needs. He was only comforted by being fed and held so he spends the night with me. The doctor the next day informs us he has crepitus, a crack in his clavicle normal for a baby his size being birthed vaginally, and that may be why he was uncomfortable in the hard plastic bassinet. When we're discharged and the car is all packed up, we pop his car seat into the cradle and drive home. Seeing him in the car all dressed in clothes we picked out weeks before makes it real to me that he's ours and we're taking him home for good; I bawl pretty much the entire way home. After all the waiting and anticipating, he's finally home and ours and present.