Having had three miscarriages before this pregnancy, I was a little nervous that something was going to go wrong.

On March 31, 1998 my husband had worked an 18-hour day. He came home at about 11:30 p.m. and sat down on the couch. We decided to get ready for bed. Well, on the way to the bathroom I had my first contraction. He went to bed anyway!!! So I called my mom and told her that tonight was the night. I told her to go back to bed and I would call her before we left for the hospital. She calls me back 20 minutes later and says I can't sleep! So, we sat on the phone counting the minutes between each contraction and counting how long the contractions were.

Five hours later, at 5:00 a.m., we went to the hospital (Grandma beat us there -- we live two blocks away and she lives two miles away). At that point, I was only dilated to 2 centimeters. So we walked the halls (I slid down the wall every time a contraction hit). The doctor came in at 7:56 and broke my water. My husband lost all of the color in his face. The doctor made him stand in front of a recliner. It was so cute.

By this time, the contractions were awful! So, I got the miracle drug, Nubain, I think, which by the way didn't work. Contractions were still there, but slowed down because of the drugs. Instead of having contractions two minutes apart, they were seven minutes apart. When the drugs started to wear off -- 10:30 a.m., April 1, April Fool's Day of all days -- the baby decided to come. NOW! The nurses were fiddling around for a while when I felt that HUGE urge to push. I said MUST PUSH! NOW! They all just looked at me and smiled. So, one of the nurses decided to check me (the last time I was checked was two hours ago and I was at 5 centimeters). At that point, the baby's head was right there! She panicked and ran for the doctor. The doctor comes in and I told him I needed to push. Before even looking, he said, Well, push then. So I did. He looks and says DON'T PUSH!!! I don't think I've ever seen a doctor move so fast in my life. Three pushes later she was out.

My beautiful 7 pound and 1 ounce little Abby. I cried; daddy cried; and of course Grandma cried. It was the happiest day of our lives.

Now we are expecting our next one (which I know is a boy -- through ultrasound) in February. February 14 to be exact. How's this going to work? We'll have a joker (April Fool's) and a lover (Valentine's Day). It ought to be interesting; but we love it.