Jonathan’s birthday started on the most treasured day of the week for his brother, Harrison. Thursday. Trash day. We woke Thursday, July 30th believing that we would be waiting yet another day to meet our new sweet little one. Both Nathan and I thought that when Jonathan would make his appearance, labor would start in the early hours of the morning, just like Harrison’s labor. So awaking Thursday morning, I was disappointed that it would be one more day VERY pregnant on a VERY hot, humid summer day.

The boys gathered the trash and wheeled the trash cans to the curb, a favorite weekday activity for Harrison! And then I grabbed my one cup of coffee and set up camp with Harrison in the driveway to wait to wait for the trash trucks to come “dump the rocks out.” (Harrison’s interpretation of the trash truck’s job.) One truck came by, and about 8:30 in the morning, as we were waiting for the recycling truck, contractions started.

I assumed they were nothing, but another came at 8:45. Then another at 8:50. About 9:00, as Nathan was heading upstairs to start his work, and Harrison and I were headed inside to play, I knocked on Nathan’s “office” door, and let him know that I was having contractions, but they seemed inconsistent, so they were probably nothing. Nathan’s sole goal of this pregnancy was to not have to deliver said baby in our home, and made the decision to call his mom to come get Harrison “just in case” this was the real thing.

9:30 rolled around, and the contractions had continued, but again, were not consistent. I said a very weepy goodbye to Harrison, trying to soak in potentially the very last moments of my only child. The little boy who made me a Mama. And off he went with his Gigi and Elmo backpack.

Contractions were starting to come more quickly now, some 7 minutes apart, some 4 minutes apart. We finished our last minute packing, and called my OB around 10:30 who gave us the go ahead to head to the hospital. Our drive to the hospital was uneventful. In fact, the contractions stopped, and I was sure we were going to be sent to home. But upon walking into the hospital, they picked up again.

Upon entering the hospital around 11, we were screened at the door for COVID, and I was quickly wheeled up to triage in labor & delivery. Now I’m not sure if every triage department works like this, but both last time and this time, it seems like the nurses in triage take their sweet, sweet time to finally get you hooked up to their machines and determine whether you’re going to be admitted to labor & delivery or not – all while contractions are getting far more painful and closer and closer together. Our triage nurse talked me through the plan of hooking me up to the machines, checking me, and then likely letting me walk around my labor and delivery room for an hour or so until they would get the epidural started….and so on and so forth. Not to mention getting my COVID swab test back from the lab.

As she got around to checking me, you could see the look in her eyes change. “Oh – ok. Well, forget all of that. You’re already at a 7, so we’re going to take you straight down to labor & delivery now.” The next hour and a half was a blur of IV’s being placed, fluids being started asap in hopes that I could get an epidural before it was time to push, racing to get my COVID test to the lab before the noon cut-off for first round of testing that day, and contractions coming every 3-4 minutes.

My OB arrived from his practice, and broke my water. Then it was the longest wait EVER for the anesthesiologists, who arrived and placed my epidural after I had reached an 8.5, around 12:30. The numbing ran through my legs, and I was finally able to feel some relief. My labor slowed over the next hour and a half, and Nathan and I waited for my body to finish dilating.

My labor and delivery nurse called my doctor at about 2:00 asking whether he wanted me to start pushing. Given that with Harrison I pushed for close to three hours, only to find that he had gotten stuck with the umbilical cord wrapped around him several times, I mentally prepared for a very long delivery. We started pushing at 2:20, and after four pushes, the beautiful cry and the sight of my new baby boy, Jonathan, at 2:41 pm.

The love I had for Jonathan was instant. Looking into his eyes, I immediately fell in love with him. He was perfect and healthy. As they laid him against my chest, a nurse came in and said, “Congrats. COVID came back negative.” Tears of relief and love, and the first perfect moments of bliss amazed yet again at what a woman’s body is capable of.

Jonathan Brooks, July 30, 7 lb. 11 oz., 20 inches