WHEW!

Wowsa. So, let's recap, shall we? A week ago today I went into labor at approx 1am. Woke up the husband who quickly shat himself and then proceeded to be the most supportive, most attentive, most loving, most amazing labor coach anyone has ever seen or heard tell of. I'm so in love with him right now, it's kind of offensive.

We made it to the hospital about 7am and proceeded to attempt to ignore my contractions until my body said, "Hold up a motha f-ing second, do you realize WE'RE IN LABOR NOW?" To which I replied, "YES, I CAN SEE THAT". To which my body replied, "WELL STOP F-ING AROUND THEN AND GET ME DRUGS". To which I replied, "Yes Ma'am". Yes, my body has made me her bitch.

So at 9 or 10a I got my epidural. Yes, Jesus, yes. And I had the best nurses all day who constantly backed me up and during an integral decision making process really stepped up for me, which I kind of heart a lot. Around 4p my contractions weren't progressing so they started me on pitocin and at 9p I was fully dilated and pushing!

Griffin came into this crazy world at 10:01pm and he is BE-A-UTIFUL, and very smart and witty. My life since then has been all boobs and stitches, but there is so much to write about that I'll be busy posting until he's 18.

Upcoming posts include: "E is for Engorgement", "Colace and I: A Lovestory", "Excluded Verses from Rock-a-bye Baby", and "The Art of Breastfeeding: WTF".

Off to obsess over that baby...