We were at the hospital by 6am. I am pretty sure I was floating or something because I was just so damn excited to meet my baby – and so much sooner than I ever imagined! We were laughing and talking with the nurses and midwives and all was well. But three hours after my water broke I had nary a contraction…

It was an unusual January day. The sun was bright and the temperature was in the mid 60s. This is not normal in January in New England. We walked the hospital grounds over and over and over. We ate, we walked, we checked in with the nurses, we walked.

The words: induction, pitocin, ruptured waters – get baby out within 24 hours, were mentioned with increasing frequency as the time dawdled on. The nurses would ask if I felt anything – any cramps? Nada.

I stalled on the induction. We kept walking. By now the sun was getting ready to set and my mother had arrived – fully expecting to see her new grand-baby. But instead we were getting ready to take a break from the walking to eat dinner. Over a not so tasty hospital dinner decided I’d take the induction at 8pm if I was still not contracting.

The thinking behind taking the induction was simple, I had been trying to get things going since 3am, and I was tired, and hadn’t really even started working yet. I knew I had a long haul ahead and needed to conserve energy. I also wanted to make the choice – had I waited too much longer the medical folks would have pushed it as I was not too far from the 24 hours mark that they wanted the baby out by.

I ate my dinner and then a couple hours later I was hooked up. It was amazing how quickly the contractions started.

…

more later, my boy just woke up.