It was Monday, and I was right upon my due date, and getting anxious about having my son – the nursery was set up, the name picked out, my hospital bag packed – all that was missing was the baby.

I woke up around 9 a.m., feeling contracting in my pelvis. There was no pain, no discomfort, so I went back to sleep. Around 11 a.m. I went online to a parenting forum I frequent and read an article stating that babies are more likely to be born on Tuesday than any other day. I immediately panicked at the thought of that happening to me – it would certainly mean that my son's father would not make it to his birth, since he'd be out of town until Friday. After settling down, I decided to start timing my contractions, since they were becoming more frequent, and a bit uncomfortable.

Around 5:30 p.m. I told my mother I'd been having contractions since 9 a.m. and they were about 12 minutes apart, but not causing me pain. I had an appointment with my OB the next morning, but she felt it best I go to the hospital right away. Once we arrived, and I told the nurse what was going on, she seemed unconcerned. Meanwhile, I was getting anxious. She gave me an exam and found that I was 3 centimeters dilated. Three centimeters! I figured the baby would be coming soon. However, my nurse informed me that the baby likely wouldn't come for a few days, and not to return to the hospital until my contractions were five minutes apart for at least one hour and I was in unbearable pain. Great – a false alarm. I left the hospital around 7:30 p.m.

I returned home and tried to relax by talking with friends on the phone and getting sleep. By 11 p.m. I noticed that the contractions were getting more intense – uncomfortable and slightly painful, but not unbearable like the nurse said, so I dealt with them by walking around and changing positions while lying down.

Around 1 a.m. I was in pain and crying whenever a contraction hit. My son's father called around this time and sensed that I'd been crying. When I told him about the contractions, he told me the baby would likely come soon. I ignored what he said and kept thinking about what the nurse at the hospital had advised me. During our conversation, he let me know that he was getting nervous about the baby coming – things like how good a father he'd be, how he'd adjust. I thought this was funny, since he had it easy – all he had to do was sit and wait. I had to do all the laboring. After we said good-bye, I tried to get some sleep.

Sleep did not come easy. My contractions were closer and closer together and growing more painful. I tried lying on my side, rocking on my hands and knees, sleeping sitting in a chair –nothing really helped the pain much. Around 6 a.m. I was doubling over with pain. I couldn't walk while having a contraction, and I couldn't concentrate enough to do my breathing exercises. I figured that since my doctor's appointment was at 9 a.m. I could tough it out (how I was going to drive myself there, I had no clue).

Once 6:30 a.m. came I was awash in tears and lying on the floor in agony. My mother decided to take me to the hospital before she went to work so I wouldn't have to drive myself there. On the way there, I thought I was going to fly out of the car with each contraction – I'd stopped timing them, but they were coming fast and furious. I didn't know how I'd be able to deal with this for another couple of days like the nurse the night before said I'd have to.

I arrived at the hospital shortly after 7 a.m. As soon as I made it to the labor and delivery floor, I collapsed outside the elevator. Thankfully, a nice man and woman (whom I never got the opportunity to thank), helped me into a wheelchair and into the area where you check in (I'd already pre-registered, but you still have to check in).

While waiting for the woman who checks in patients, I had a pain rip through me that sent me crashing onto the floor out of the wheelchair and forced a scream from me so loud they must have heard it two floors below. At this point, I knew something was wrong and was crying for someone to help me. A crew of nurses flocked into the room, including the one who'd seen me the night before. I remember hearing someone say I was about to deliver right there in the office, and I'd better get to a room quick.

I don't remember how I got to the room, or how I got into that hospital gown, but I do remember throwing myself onto the bed and grabbing at the mattress – I had no clue what was going on, and had never felt a pain like this in my life. I honestly thought I would die I felt so horrible. I tried not to, but with each contraction, I felt an uncontrollable urge to push. At this point, I begged for medication, but it was too late. A nurse peeped between my legs and said, "She's crowning! Let's go!" I was dilated to 9 centimeters. As I was rushed down the hall, I kept wailing and flailing on the stretcher, not knowing how I'd deliver this child without medication.

Once we got into the delivery room, the doctor and nurses scrambled into their positions (me screaming my head off all the while). The doctor broke my water and told me to try and push and not scream, and then I'd have a baby. So I pushed, and out came the head. One more push and my son, Paul Christian, was born. It was 7:23 a.m., and he'd come out screaming as hard as I was! He was a healthy 7 pounds, 1 ounce, and 21 inches.

I immediately felt a rush of euphoria. Not only was most of the pain over with, but my baby was finally here! And he was beautiful (I'll take credit for that, since he favors me more than his dad) – a full head of jet black hair, and the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. I fell in love instantly.

My experience was not at all how I'd dreamed it would be. I thought I'd be in my designer gown (which I never put on), all made up and pretty (I'd gotten my hair done days before the birth), but they don't call it labor for nothing. I was drenched in sweat, my hair a complete mess by the time it was all over with. Instead, I looked like I'd just run a 50-mile marathon and hadn't slept for weeks.

But now, looking at my son, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. And I am glad that he was born without medication in his system – I believe it's what allowed him to have such a healthy appetite and be so alert early on.

There are two things I've kept with me from my birth experience: 1) I'm stronger than I ever thought I could possibly be, and 2) They may be nurses and doctors, but follow your own gut feelings – had I left the house 15 minutes later, my baby would have been delivered on the highway!