Ryan Patrick Cook

Here's the birth story of Ryan Patrick Cook, born November 23, 1997.

I was due on Thanksgiving day (Nov. 27th), so of course everyone joked about my turkey baby. The pregnancy was wonderful, and I wasn't too uncomfortable until the last month. I had lots of Braxton Hicks contractions from about 7 months on, but when I started to have regular contractions the Thursday before I delivered I knew something was going on.

For two days I had contractions every 18 minutes. They weren't too painful, but enough to keep me from sleeping. I even had a trip up to the hospital to see if I was in labor, but they sent me home because I wasn't dialated. It was then that I realized labor isn't exactly an exact science.

The contractions eventually became 6-8 minutes apart and my doctor told me to drink a glass of wine. If the contractions went away, she said that would mean I was still just having false labor. Since they didn't, we packed up and went to the hospital. This was Saturday night. Once in the lobby, I panicked as the contractions stopped completely. I didn't want to be sent home again. Fortunately, they started up again after we got to L&D.

When the doctor examined me, I was 3 cm dialated. I could stay! She recommended that we break my water to get things moving. Once my water was broken, the contractions got more painful. I held out for a few hours but eventually asked for an epidural. The epidural felt wonderful, and I was relieved to be out of pain.

A few more hours went by, and I felt great. I dialated more and more, and my doctor thought I'd deliver by 1 pm (Sunday). Unfortuantely, Ryan had other plans. I made in to 9 cm and stayed there for hours. The doctor wasn't sure why the last cm was taking so long. At this point, my epidural was wearing off and I was in pain. I wanted to push, so we tried to push even though I wasn't quite at 10 cm. I pushed for 2 hours. With every push, I kept hoping I'd feel like he was moving down. It just wasn't happening. The pain became overwhelming, and after not sleeping for 3 days and not eating for 24 hours I was out of strength. I cried and begged for a c-section. The doctor agreed, and I was prepped for surgery.

It turned out the baby was facing the wrong way, and he probably couldn't have been delivered vaginally. Aside from his position, he was also a large baby (8lbs, 4 oz.) for someone my size (pre-pregnancy weight was 94 lbs). My husband held my hand during the surgery, and I remember lying there and saying over and over to myself, "I'm going to meet my baby soon." That chant, along with my husband's presence, really kept me going.

Whne I heard a baby cry shortly after 5 pm on Sunday, I didn't realize it was mine because I was so foggy. He was cleaned up and brought over to me, and I thought he was the biggest, most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The nurse tried to take him away, but I wanted to breastfeed him. She started to argue with me that he was going to the nursery, but I got really upset and eventually another nurse said he could come with me to recovery. I was able to feed him minutes after he was born, and my husband and I kept him in my room the entire time I was in the hospital.

I had a rough recovery because my abdomen filled up with a ton of air. I spent five days in the hospital, and my husband slept on the chair next to me every night. Being able to hold my son and breastfeed him gave me incredible comfort.

Ryan is a wonderful addition to our life. He is now 5 months old.