I found out I was pregnant around June 6 2003. I knew right away that I was pregnant when I was a couple days late. My periods were very regular. My husband and I were scared and elated at the same time.

My due date was scheduled for January 25, 2004. Being my first pregnancy I went to the ER for everything, I mean everything.

The only serious time they admitted me was when I was 26 weeks and I started having contractions. They gave me magnesium sulfate and morphine for the pain. The morphine was useless. The nurse on duty even asked me was I ever a drug addict because the morphine should have knocked me out. I chuckled and dismissed her comment, though it kind of pissed me off later on when I thought about it. Good thing my husband wasn't there to hear that.

The doctor chalked my premature labor up to nice size fibroids on my uterus that were being manipulated, causing uterine contractions. (Yeah, whatever).

Moving on to the night I went into labor. My husband and I were sitting on the couching eating ice cream and Doritos when I started having frequent Braxton-Hicks contractions. (This was around 11 p.m. January 3, 2004.) Being a first-time mom, again, I just chalked it up to Boy, this baby is really being active tonight.

As I was taking another bite of my butter pecan ice cream, I felt a warm sensation trickle out of me, not the usual pop most women feel. I turned to my husband and said, Something just came out of me. He said, Naaah, too soon. (What does he know?)

So I waited and sure enough, about three minutes later I felt the same sensation. I Immediately I stood up and the trickle turned into a little stream of water leaking from my vagina.

I went to the bathroom to sit on the toilet to gather my thoughts. My husband, being the anal man that he is, jumped up to fetch the mop and followed me to the restroom, mopping up my every drop behind me. We then proceeded to call the doctor on call and she advised me to come to labor and delivery. So off we headed.

When I got to the hospital I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors and machines. I was not dilated at all (from what I can remember) but my water had indeed broken.

My husband, my mom and my grandmother sat and watched TV for a will until the next vaginal check (maybe an hour and a half later). I was only dilated to 1 1/2 centimeters. So they decided to start the Pitocin drip. Soon after, the room drew quiet, as I need to concentrate on the frequent contractions I was having. That Pitocin drip is no joke. The time was about 3:30 a.m.

I was checked again and measured at 3 1/2 centimeters. Slow progress. I continued to moan and breathe through the contractions, being totally oblivious to who was in the room. I had entered the zone.

My grandmother kept offering to massage my feet, but I declined. I didn't want to be touched. The last time she offered, I accepted. But the calluses and corns on her hands made my contractions much more unbearable. So I snatched my foot back and screamed, That's enough! Poor Granny, she looked embarrassed.

Things were getting greasy now. I was vocalizing more, tensing up, grabbing the sheets and everything. It was about 5 a.m. The nurse came in and checked me again. (I guess she heard me vocalizing.) She said I was at a 5, and did I want an epidural now. I quickly replied yes. She ordered it.

NOTE: I had not seen my doctor yet!

Around 5:30 a.m. I heard the nurse talking to the anesthesiologist outside my door. The were laughing and joking around, and just having a good old time. It still amazes me that the closer the epidural man got to my door the worse the pain got. It's the same analogy when you have to tinkle. The closer you get to the toilet the more you have to pee.

So I received my epidural around 6 a.m. and everything was smooth sailing from there.

I started to feel pressure in my bottom around noon that day. I was checked around 12:50 p.m., immediately started pushing and my baby boy was born at 1:15 p.m., January 4, 2004. He was two weeks early. He only weighed 5 pounds, 13 ounces.

I did not tear, nor did the doctor have to cut me. Oh yeah, the doctor showed up in just enough time to catch my baby.

But overall it was a pretty good labor and birth, for my fist child. I am now 7 months pregnant with my second child. It's a girl!

Thanks for reading.