Cam’s Birth Story {Part One}

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As I alluded to yesterday, the day Cam was born held quite a bit of excitement. When he finally decided to come, he came. Quickly. I joke that Cam is more drama than all of his sisters put together, and it’s the truth – even from the beginning, he has been a high-maintenance, attention-needing diva. He will probably get me for saying this in a few years. Ha!

After an uneventful day in the contraction department, I went to bed on Saturday night thinking things would never get going.

3 am on Sunday morning. I was awoken, but not by contractions. I was oddly anxious and excited. I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way, since I wasn’t feeling any pain or contractions. I laid in bed for awhile, and finally just got up, showered, and got ready for church. My first contraction hit at 7 am.

I casually mentioned it to Shane, and he freaked, just a little. I, on the other hand, was mildly annoyed at how easy the contractions were. The ones on Friday were much stronger, so I figured these were just teasers like those had been. By 9 am, my contractions were coming in regular intervals, but I still felt that they weren’t “real,” again, remembering how the ones on Friday tricked me.

Shane didn’t want me to go to church, but I told him if I didn’t go, people would be wondering why I wasn’t there. And I also didn’t want to be away from him in case these were real; I wanted him right there and easily accessible. He agreed with my logic, but insisted (read: he stood over me until I did as he asked… he isn’t usually so demanding and bossy) I call the hospital. The nurse I reached confirmed what I thought, that these may or may not be real, and to keep timing them. She did tell me she thought I was crazy to go on to church, but in all honesty, I needed the distraction. {Although this scenario played into MY biggest fear – my water breaking at church. I tried to push that thought out of my mind because, surely, these weren’t real anyway!}

My contractions only got stronger, and I could barely sit during Sunday school. I told only one person – my pastor’s wife (who is also a dear friend) – that I might be in labor. I wanted her to know in case we had to make a flying dash out of church, so she could inform our pastor why his other pastor was MIA.

Shane made it to the end of our class, and could tell I was hurting. I was on the edge of the couch and was trying really hard to not show how I was feeling. After class, one of our friends came up to me and said quietly, “So. How far apart are they?” with a huge grin on his face. I told him every three minutes and getting harder with each one. He said he and his wife had been timing them throughout the class! So much for hiding how I was feeling! Ha! Needless to say, we headed to the main church building to get our children, who were, of course, sitting in the FRONT ROW. I sent a friend down to the front to get them, and somehow, EVERYONE saw and knew what was going on. There was lots of giggling and well-wishing and you-were-crazy-to-come-to-church-you-know-that-right comments.

We high-tailed it home. Shane was moving really quickly. I um, still had to pack. Abby Grace helped pack up the stuff for herself and her sister to stay with their grandparents and I packed my hospital bags. Shane was ready long before I was. He phoned his parents, but we got our wires crossed, and when we got to their house, neither of them were home. I took the opportunity to go the bathroom (for the thousandth time that day) and to snuggle with the girls, much to my husband’s chagrin. When his mom got home, she and I chatted until Shane yelled (yes, he yelled) at us to stop talking so we could leave.

He needed to eat, and I convinced him to grab something on our way out. He reluctantly agreed.

Halfway to the hospital, I decided I could not wait any longer and I had to “go.” – TMI alert – This put my already panicked husband into even more of a panic, because he was deathly afraid of delivering on the side of the road. There were no places to stop, so he simply pulled over. He kept making sure I didn’t need to push, and he was very relieved when I got back inside the truck, baby still intact. My contractions on the way to the hospital increased to every 60 seconds, and I honestly wasn’t sure we would make it. I truly expected my water to break before we got there.

By the time we pulled into the hospital parking lot, even I was relieved. Getting from the truck into the actual hospital, however, proved to be a bit more difficult (and dramatic) than I thought.

It was a Sunday, so there was no valet or parking lot attendant. I refused to go to the ER (believe it or not, I detest unnecessary attention, and I figured it would just be easier to go straight to L&D). My poor husband basically had to drag me to the building because I kept stopping to get through each contraction. I bet it took ten minutes to get from the parking lot to the front of the hospital. He kept saying, “We are here. You are not having this baby in the parking lot.”

A recap of Cam’s birth and first birthday pictures coming tomorrow!


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