Let me explain what I meant by this yesterday.
Our daughter Sam was hospitalized Saturday with the doctors deciding to wait till the morrow to induce her–let the baby be 37 weeks and officially past prematurity, but then he was going to have to come out. The risk of losing him had become too great.
Sunday morning, then, they started the inducing and she was in mild labor all day. She was where she needed to be: they could monitor him and do something fast if things went south.
We went to bed that night after offering the message that they were not to worry about waking us up: whatever the hour, we wanted to know.
She was in labor all Sunday night.
She was in labor all day Monday.
She was in labor all Monday night. We slept badly but not as badly as our daughter and son-in-law did.
She was in labor all day Tuesday. That baby wanted every extra hour he could get. Just as we were about to hit the lights last night the message came in: her water had broken. We looked at each other and pronounced, “Show time.” Wishing it were and figuring probably not any time soon, still, at the rate things had been going.
She was in labor all Tuesday night. I’ve borne four children and done twenty hours’ worth for a miscarriage and I cannot begin to fathom how she could do it.
I woke up this morning seven-ish, checked for messages, saw none, and thought, my poor kid. My strong, heartbreakingly brave kid who was willing to risk so much to bring her son into this world to share a life with the best man she could possibly have chosen. I cannot begin to say how in awe I am of her.
Her husband stayed by her side.
Welcome to the world, little one. We cannot wait to see you, too.
(Photos by Sam.)
