My first pregnancy, unlike most people I knew, was very uneventful. As a matter of fact, my husband and my boss guessed that I was pregnant before I even knew.

Always having had a cast-iron stomach (must have been all that drinking in college), I was very surprised when I got what I thought was food poisoning at work one day. I felt so sick that I went home that day (my boss was surprised to see me go, as I had never had a sick day in three years) and got a pregnancy test a few days later on my husband's recommendation.

My husband read the directions for me because I was so nervous, and he wanted us to hold hands during the five-minute waiting period, then go check the test together. I remember asking him from the bathroom, What does it mean if there's a plus sign already? The rest of that night was a blur as I realized the full impact of that little pink plus sign!

I absolutely loved being pregnant and felt great throughout my pregnancy. Always an active person, I continued with my aerobics, walking and mild weight training. I loved the feeling of the baby moving inside of me, and I was elated when I found out that I was having a little girl.

I even went against the advice of my OB/GYN and left Texas at 36 weeks to go vacation in Florida. On the way back to Texas I started having contractions in the car, but they were relatively mild. At my checkup the following week, my doctor told me that I was 4 centimeters dilated and ended up inducing me at 39 weeks.

I was very excited about being induced and made sure my hair, makeup and nails were picture perfect. I assumed wrongly that my labor would be the cakewalk my pregnancy had been. The doctor started a Pitocin drip, and my labor pains were much stronger than the ones I had in the car (little did I know that induced labor is more painful than natural labor).

My doctor broke my bag of waters and I fainted. I found out from my husband and my mother that she rolled her eyes at the sight of me fainting.

When they asked me if I wanted an epidural I said yes. However, about 30 minutes after I initially got my epidural I began feeling pain again and told the medical staff. The anesthesiologist administered more pain medication but put so much in that I was completely high and asking for more (I don't even remember doing this). My husband had the good sense to tell her that I didn't need any more.

Once I progressed to 10 centimeters, they asked me to start pushing. Because of the anesthesia I was so numb that I couldn't tell if I was pushing hard enough. I must have been because each time I pushed, the scalp monitor on my daughter's head indicated that she was going into fetal distress. My OB/GYN told me that I would be taken to the OR and would possibly have to have a Cesarean section.

Once in the OR she delivered my daughter via forceps (I didn't want the vacuum forceps used because of a news story I had seen about their dangers) and discovered that the cord had been wrapped around my daughter's neck.

Although I ended up with a fourth degree tear, I credit my doctor with saving my daughter's life. Courtney was born on September 18, 1999, weighing 7 pounds, 8 ounces with a head full of black hair and her father's gorgeous blue eyes. My doctor did a great job of sewing me up, as I have had no complications from my tear.

I suffered two miscarriages after having my daughter, but I am happy to say that I am 34 weeks pregnant with a little boy. My pregnancy with him has been different. Not horrible, but I have had very bad heartburn with him. I hope my labor with him goes better than it did with Courtney. But no matter what way it turns out, he will definitely be worth it