Judah Allen finally made his debut on 3/3/23.
After having irregular contractions for about a week, things started picking up on the evening of 3/2. On the morning of 3/3, I still thought I had time so I told my husband to go to work. I called him four hours later to say, "It's time!!" My grandparents were ready to watch the kids, ready to rush me to the hospital. My husband sped from his job site in Chandler to meet me at the hospital in record time. Three hours later, I was fully dilated. The nurses made it sound like the baby would be coming soon so I thought an epidural would be wasted on me. I decided to proceed without. I'd never given birth without being numb from the waist down so I was curious to see if I could do it. I was woefully unprepared.
Judah was 9lbs at birth. His head was 14 inches around. I felt everything. For the last two babies, I had nothing to distract me from pushing. This time? There was too much going on downstairs for me to be able to focus. The intensity of the pain took centerstage. The doctor was not afraid to get her hands dirty. Without going into details, she helped get Judah out. Five minutes of pushing, screaming, grunting, and wailing felt like hours. In desperation, I shouted, "I can't do this!" My husband stood beside me, reminding me that I'd done this before and I could do it again. All the nurses chanted together, cheered me on, told me how great I was doing. Somehow, Judah made it out. It felt like he took the last of my energy with him. I lay there, unmoving, spent, as they took my baby across the room and cleaned him up. Then they placed him on my chest.
This little person who had been inside me for months, this little boy I'd been begging and begging to come out, was finally here. It was so surreal. He was healthy and whole and new. Beautiful. Right out of the gate, he was breaking the mold. Not only was he in the womb longer than either of his siblings, but he was strong enough to nurse, something neither of my other kids could ever do. He was strong enough to leave the hospital after a little less than forty-eight hours. He grew out of newborn clothes and diapers in the blink of an eye. It was like having my first kid all over again. I was not prepared, but in the best possible way. They say every pregnancy is different, every kid is different. They weren't kidding.
Recovery has been slow. My hips and pelvis still aren't back to normal, which makes sense. He was my heaviest baby, and he weighed down over my hips for much longer than the other two kids did. But other than that, I can't really complain. My two older kids have been super helpful. They love their little brother and have been surprisingly understanding when he steals away Mommy's attention. Yes, it has been an adjustment. Yes, sleep deprivation is rough. Yes, some days I'm barely hanging on by a thread. But I'm also incredibly thankful.
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