...on a Friday night, like tonight, at about this time, Ben and I headed to the hospital. I was in labor. I'd been in labor all day long. I was tired. And in some pain.
We got to the hospital. The nurses checked me. I was dilated to about a four. They kept me for an hour, but when I hadn't progressed at all, those blessed women gave me a shot of morphine and sent me home to sleep.
Granted, labor woke me up about three and a half hours later. But still. That's three + hours of labor that I have no recollection of. Ben, the ever attendant husband and almost first-time father stayed up, timing my contractions, because even though I was passed out, I guess it was still pretty clear I was having them.
My daughter was born Saturday morning in the eight o'clock hour. There is no way she'll wait until eight to wake up tomorrow. It will be her sixth birthday and the celebration must begin as early as possible. Sweet girl. I love her so.