Being pregnant for the first time was an absolute joy. Even with all the aches and pains, I was grateful to be at last experiencing everything I had hoped and prayed for, for so long. We were extremely anxious about miscarrying, of course, but it was such a different feeling to finally be on the other side of the fence, so to speak. I spent a lot of my time reading about pregnancy and labor. I was already an expert on infertility, I felt, and it wouldn't be long before I'd devoured as much information on pregnancy as I could.

My OB had me stay on the Metformin for the first trimester of the pregnancy, which I was not at all objective to. PCOS women have a higher chance of miscarrying, and if the Metformin could keep that under control, then I felt it was worth taking. When the first trimester ended, my OB gave me the choice of continuing to take it or not. I thought it might end up helping to keep away gestational diabetes, of which I was afraid of developing. Though there really haven't been enough studies to say whether or not Metformin will help in that aspect, in my case, I did indeed not develop gestational diabetes, though my levels were close a time or two.

The biggest problem I had during this pregnancy was a severe food aversion. I had all the feelings of nausea that accompany morning sickness, without actually ever getting sick (except for the rare occasion). Mostly the overwhelming nausea just kept me from eating, and the result was a free fall weight loss that lasted through the entire pregnancy. I began to see a nutritionist in the seventh month to see if we could halt it. With her help, the weight loss finally stopped in the last 6 weeks of the pregnancy, though I didn't really gain anything back. By the time I went into labor, I was about 25 lbs below my pre-pregnancy weight. I had a couple of late ultrasounds to check on the baby to make sure she was still developing on track despite my weight loss. She certainly slowed down near the end of my pregnancy, but nothing to really give the OB any serious concern. They all felt there was every reason to expect she would be born a healthy, normal baby.

Mostly, though, I loved being pregnant. Not because it was easy, because it wasn't. With the nausea, food aversion, constant back pain, and all the other annoying things that come with the territory, it was definitely hard. But to feel that life growing within me, and to imagine the days ahead with the three of us, it was all I had hoped and prayed for, and I was grateful to experience every small moment of it.

The most exciting day was the day we found out we were going to have a girl. I think all little girls want to grow up and have little girls of their own, and I was no exception. I grew up afraid that I would only ever have boys, just because I wanted a little girl so badly. So to be gifted this special little girl on the first try was, to me, as much of a miracle as conceiving was. I was even more excited, and could not wait to meet our precious little daughter.

My due date was March 18th, 2007, and it just couldn't come soon enough. Thankfully, I ended up not having to wait that long. In the early hours of Thursday, March 15th, I seemed to be having an exceptionally hard time sleeping. I bundled myself up out on the couch hoping a "change of scenery" would help me to sleep. It worked to a point. I kept drifting in and out of sleep for a while. It must have been close to 4:30am when I realized that the reason I kept waking up was because I was having cramps. Just mild ones, but obviously strong enough to keep waking me up. I was too tired to really think much of it at the time, though. About an hour or so later, I got up to use the bathroom (a regular nightly occurrence). I was fairly damp, but thought I had just been sweating a lot, and went back to lie down on the couch. I didn't go back to sleep though. Instead I lay there and thought more about the cramps and being damp, and what our birth instructor had told us about water breaking up high and coming out slowly. I figured I'd better be safe than sorry, and decided I'd get up to put on a pad to see if it got wet. But not yet. I'd wait until Matt got up for work at about 6:30am. In the meantime, I just tried to relax.

I was still awake when I heard Matt get up, so I got up and went back in to the bathroom. I put on my test pad, but it was hardly necessary. As soon as I stood up, I felt it: a little tiny trickle that was definitely not pee. I immediately sat back down on the toilet, and that tiny trickle turned into a regular little stream. I told Matt I was pretty sure my water had broken, and I sat there on the toilet for a good while while Matt ran around getting our last minute stuff into our hospital bag and making me a quick breakfast. After about 20 minutes of sitting there, I figured my steady stream was just not going to stop, and gave up. I jumped from the toilet to the shower, and then had Matt get me a towel to put between my legs. Then, as quickly as we could, I threw on some clothes, we got in the car, and drove to the hospital. On the way there, I realized two things... First, the cramps I had been feeling while trying to sleep had obviously actually been contractions. Second, they were gone.

We got to the hospital in good time, and began the long process of checking in. It wasn't until about 9am that we finally were settled into a room. The nurses checked me and said I was only 1 cm dilated. My contractions still had not started back up. The OB came in to see me and said she would give us a few hours to see if we could get contractions to start ourselves, but the clock was ticking now, and if I didn't start on my own, I'd need to be induced. I was fine with that, and Matt and I were sent out to walk the halls. We walked all over that hospital, visiting pretty much every floor and finding our way around. But the contractions never started. At noon, the OB said that was it, we didn't want to press our luck too much, it was time to get the show on the road. They hooked me up to an IV, which was just about the most painful thing I had experienced. We're pretty sure the nurse put it in very badly, because the silly thing (which shouldn't have hurt at all) was more painful than the contractions for a very long time. It wouldn't be until after the birth that the new nurse on duty would think anything was wrong with it. But ah well, I was stuck with a painful and bleeding IV for a very long time.

The pitocin got the contractions started right away. It didn't take long for them to become pretty strong. By 1 pm, I was feeling the pain pretty decently, and practicing my breathing exercises. I was still, at this point, bound and determined to get through this without an epidural. As the hours passed, however, the pain became severe and my whole body began uncontrollably shaking. When the nurse came in to check my progress around 4:30 pm, she told me I was dilated to 3 cm. I think my heart broke. It'd only been a few hours, but I felt like I had already been through an enormous amount of pain, and it seemed it was all for very little, as I had made, in my opinion, almost no progression. I was afraid at this rate, with my body shaking non stop and already feeling worn out, that I would spend hours and hours in labor, and in the end, have to have a c-section because I was too tired to push. That was my greatest fear. And so it was with much reluctance that I decided to go ahead with an epidural. I felt it was my best option to avoid becoming too worn out.

 The nurse got the process underway, but it was still another hour before the anesthesiologist got to me. It was unbelievably hard to sit still while he put the needle in my back. I tried to explain that I couldn't stop the body shaking. The guy did his best to get the needle in anyway, and I did my best to sit still, gripping the nurse for some stability. It all went well in the end, though, and I was able to lie back and have a break, finally. The pain from the contractions was gone, and my body finally stopped shaking. It was a supremely blissful moment.

For the next couple of hours, I laid in the bed, just relaxing. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. Around 7:30 pm, the nurse came in to check my progress again, and amazingly enough, I was already to 8 cm. I couldn't believe I had progressed so far in so little time when the rest of the day had gone so slow. I have a feeling it was due to the epidural. My contractions up until that point had all been erratic, following no real regular pattern, and probably completely ineffective because of it. But as soon as the epidural was in, my contractions became beautifully regular. I can't help but wonder if my own body was getting in the way. We called my mom and told her it probably wouldn't be long now, and indeed, when the nurse checked me again at around 8 pm, I was already at 9 cm. Ten or so minutes later, she checked again and told me I was at a +1, and I could go ahead and start pushing.

With the support of Matt, my mom, my sister, and the nurse, the pushing began. I tried to take it nice and easy so as not to tear, but the nurse kept yelling at me to push harder, and so I did. She kept yelling at me, though. I felt I was pushing as hard as I could, but she wanted more out of me, and so I did my best to push harder. The result was all of the sudden, the baby's head appeared and came halfway out all at once. Then the nurse had to tell me to stop pushing while she ran to find a doctor to deliver the baby. Those were definitely uncomfortable minutes. Finally the OB on call appeared (not any of my regular doctors as it happened), and I was allowed to push again. Two pushes later, the baby was out. She was placed on my belly, and I looked at my daughter for the very first time. She was, to me, absolutely beautiful. The OB spent a few more minutes delivering the placenta and then stitching me up where I had torn because the baby's head came out so fast (thanks a lot, Nurse), and then she left. Matt stayed with the baby while she got weighed and checked over, and then she was brought back to me, all bundled up, to hold at last.

Madeline Lily was born at 8:44 pm on Thursday, March 15th, 2007. She weighed a very petite 5 lbs 9 oz, and was 18 3/4" long. She scored a 9.9 on the apgar scale, and couldn't have been more perfect. She was almost completely bald, and her eyes were a steely dark grey-blue. She came out absolutely coated in vernix, which surprised all the nurses and doctors there. They all decided my dating had been wrong, which was highly offensive. You don't tell an obsessive charter that she must have been wrong in her dates. No, Madeline was just small, and a little bit behind, likely due to the weight loss issues I'd had the entire pregnancy. She was still perfect to me in every way, and I give thanks every day to have this precious spirit in our home.

We are finally a family.