six months...

It hardly seems possible that time has passed so quickly, but six months ago today, my baby boy was born. I've got tears running down my cheeks just thinking about it. That day, and the long (hard) hours that preceded it.

Since I don't share the story very often, I figured I'd tell it today. Settle in, people: My labor was long!

Canon was born on a Friday **about a week after his due date** But, the action really started the Tuesday before. I had been to see my doctor that day. My mom went with me to my appointment, because Tim was working, and I had a routine ultrasound scheduled for that day **I wanted for her to be able to to see her grandson for the first time, albeit in 2-dimension** It didn't take long for the tech to determine that the baby had plenty of fluid to thrive **good news, obviously** After making that determination, she moved the camera around my belly, making note of Canon's head measurement, and then his femur, and then his abdomen. And then his abdomen again. And again. And then, she asked a question that caused my mom's eyes to look as big as saucers. "Are you diabetic?" she said. Translation, thanks to my mother: Your baby is l-a-r-g-e!

As if on cue, my doctor came into the room as the tech was delivering the news about Canon's size. "According to these measurements, this baby is between 10 and 11 pounds!" **ouchie** Dr. Frisch seemed a little shocked **join the club!** and she kept looking at my belly saying, "That can't be right. He can't be more than 7 or 8..." Oh really? Sidebar: Let me say that for what she may lack in ability to estimate baby weight, she makes up for it (and then some) in bedside manner. I absolutely adore her! At any rate, we scheduled another appointment for two days later, and I went home to stew about what it was going to be like to push out an 11 pound baby **read: I was scared**

Thursday of that week, I went to see Dr. Frisch again. She did an exam, at which point she was, in her words, "a little aggressive" with my insides. A little aggressive indeed. Not one hour after that appointment, I was enjoying a #4 at Jimmy John's, and I said to my mom, "Something is not right." In a knowing tone she murmured, "Uh-huh." Though we had scheduled my induction for the next morning **Friday, in case I've lost you** labor had started. I called Tim on the phone that he had programmed to ring ONLY for baby news. He answered with a mix of angst and excitement in his voice. We determined that I'd go home and rest, and he'd work a normal day. By 6:00 that night, when he arrived home from work, things had progressed considerably. I was in pain, and the contractions were getting more intense and more regular. As the hours passed, Tim would say to me: "Do we need to go to the hospital?" I'd wince and respond: "No, let's just wait here a little longer." At about 10:00 p.m., Tim and my mom agreed that we'd waited at home long enough. And so, we loaded up in the car, and drove the 30 minutes to the hospital. Though I can't really describe the pain, I remember it. I was miserable during contractions **they don't call it LABOR for nothin** We arrived at the hospital, and for some freakish reason, I refused the wheelchair that was offered to me at the front door. I said I'd walk. Was I nuts???

A very long night was just beginning. At about 11:00 p.m., we checked in with the nurses. I got into bed, was hooked up to a bunch of machines, and a doctor from Dr. Frisch's practice came in to check me out. I don't remember much of the first hour or two at the hospital. I was in pretty intense pain. And I was tired from enduring all of those contractions. What I do recall, though, is the doctor asking me if I wanted an epidural. Let me say this: I had been one of those women who said she wanted to hold out for as long as possible before getting an epidural put in. At certain points during my pregnancy, I had even declared my desire to go without an epidural all together, if my body could stand it. BUT, when one was offered to me that night, it took me about .5 seconds to say - "Hook me up!!!" I'd had enough. I wanted the drugs. More power to you ladies who made it through labor without them. Respectfully, I think you're out of your mind!!!

About 20 minutes after they hooked me up, I could swear I heard the Alleluia chorus over the hospital intercom. Once again, I was able to coherently carry on a conversation **without dropping an f-bomb** And breathe normally. And make decisions. And remember details. And sleep. Until, that is, my doctor came in the next morning. I had mentally prepared myself for the fact that she might not be there when I delivered. But, what a relief to see her face! Brought me a sense of calm to know that she would be the one to help me through labor. Without going into every single detail of the day, suffice it to say that I laid in the bed until 1 p.m., at which point, Dr. Frisch and a brigade of nurses came into my room and announced that I was ready to push. And push. And push. For 3 and 1/2 long hours.

It's difficult to recall much between the hours of 1:00 and 4:48 p.m., when our little boy came into the world. I couldn't feel pain, really. Just an insane amount of pressure. And fatigue. Holy cow, was I exhausted! I do remember when I was about two hours into pushing. Canon's little head had shown itself a number of times, and then disappeared, and then shown itself, and then disappeared. Out of frustration, exhaustion, and frankly, a need for a plan, I looked at Dr. Frisch and said: "You have to tell me how much more of this I need to do." She said, "Another hour." And I'll tell you, as much as I adore that lady, I wanted to rise up off that bed and knock her out! Nevertheless, I gathered my strength, and went for another **nearly** two hours.

And then, he was here. All bloated and goop'ed up. With puffy eyes and a cone-shaped head. But, with the most perfect lips. And toes. And cry. I could hardly breathe when the nurse put Canon on my skin for the first time. I am sure there was still a flurry in the room, as Dr. Frisch worked on me, and the nurses did whatever nurses do post-delivery. But, all of that faded out for me. It was just me and sweet Canon. And Tim. Gosh, what sweet moments with him as well. He'd been an incredible coach through the whole labor process. Counting my breaths. Whispering in my ear. Giving me whatever I needed. And now, having partnered through those hours together, we were looking into the eyes of the most incredible gift we've ever been given. Our son.

Flash forward six months, and I'm sitting here on the couch, listening to Canon wake up from his first nap of the day. He's talking to himself. And pulling the arm of the stuffed dog in his crib **he's figured out that he can make it play him a lullaby** I'm only just beginning to understand what my parents have told me for years: "The love you have for your child is like nothing you've ever known." It's profound. And deep. And so intense that it's almost suffocating **in a good way, if that makes any sense at all** There's nothing like it.

Happy first half-year of life, Canon Gray!