Little Byron's birth story

     It is Sunday, August 11, 2013, a normal Sunday by all means -- church with the family, out for lunch with the Morrises, nap time for Byron and Emma while Oma and I chat for a little.  Then off to evening church (Emma and Oma stay home and have some time together), then back home for dinner.  Byron and I had not agreed on a name for our yet-unborn son, so we took advantage of Oma being in town and went out for coffee at around 9 pm.

     As soon as we arrive at Starbucks, I begin feeling cramp-like contractions and pain in my back.  They come and go, come and go.  Byron and I enjoy our cup of coffee, some good conversation, and finally agree on a name for our boy.

    After about an hour, I tell Byron that these contractions are just not normal -- they are happening far too frequently for them to just be braxton hicks.  We head home, decide to finish packing, complete a load of laundry and go to bed at midnight.  By then my contractions were between 10 - 15 minutes apart.  We knew our baby was on its way, but thought we may get a night of sleep before heading to the hospital early in the morning.

     It is Monday, August 12, 2013 at 12:20 am.  I lay in bed and realize that within a 20 minute period, I have had three contractions already.  I get out of bed and tell Byron it may be time to head to the hospital.  I time them again just to make sure, and they are ranging between 4 - 6 minutes apart.  We are out the door at 1:15 am and get to the hospital at around 1:30 am.  Oma is at home with Emma sleeping, and Memma and Poppa have been notified that we are on our way.

     We park the car at the entrance and head upstairs with only my bag.  As soon as I arrive at the triage, they strap me in and begin monitoring me.  My contractions are becoming very intense at this point, and I tell them that I will be needing an epidural.  They check my cervix, but are unable to determine how dilated I am, and cannot give me the epidural until they make sure I am in active labor.  My contractions are crazy painful at this point (never felt this pain when I had Emma -- I had already received my epidural by then).  I don't know what to do at this point, so I just hold on tight to Byron's arm each time they come.  I apparently have a very high tolerance for pain, because when I finally decided to begin making verbal noises to see if the nurses would actually believe me, they finally believe me.

    The nurse brings in another nurse to check me.  They still can't determine how dilated I am, but they do agree that I am in active labor.  One of the nurses gives me some medicine to help me handle the pain until the epidural arrives (she only gives me half, she said, in case I go into labor sooner and needs me to be fully awake to push).  It is 2:55 am and they take me out from the triage and into a delivery room.

     Contractions are just killing me at this point.  Byron encourages me and prays for me through each contractions.  About five nurses are in the room at this point, with no epidural and no doctor.  At around 3:10 am one of the nurses says the baby's head is "right there."  I realize at this point I will not be getting an epidural.  The nurses tell me to wait -- the doctor needs to arrive first.  "What if he does not make it in time?" I ask.  "We can deliver the baby just in case" they say.  So I do what I can to bare through the pain of each contractions, doing what I can not to push.  Finally, I cannot hold the urge any longer, and two contractions later, probably within a 30 second period, our son is born to the world, with no epidural and no doctor to "catch" him.

     It is 3:27 am, and a 7 lb 1 oz 19.75 inch long baby boy is born -- Byron Millard Morris III is born into this world and into our family.  

    "Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him" -- Psalm 127:3.