I let Nate sleep for the first three hours while laboring for Ingrid. We were both exhausted and we both thought her birth was days off. I took a bath and a shower to try and stop the contractions. It didn't work.
Some time between 3-4 AM, I informed Nate that I really was in labor and maybe he could wake up. Another Ingrid sang,
The storm is coming, but I don't mind.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, but it wasn't the pain. It was what I was sure would follow.
People are dying, I close my blinds
All that I know is I'm breathing now
Nate made eggs. He's always very concerned about my protein intake.
But all that I know is I'm breathing All I can do is keep breathing All we can do is keep breathing now
And I breathed. But I was so afraid.
We held hands. I leaned into Nate.
Our doula took pictures of us in the hour before Ingrid came. We look like we are bracing for a storm. We were. And then, before it began, the storm was over. In the weeks leading up to Ingrid's birth, she had said several times that it would be great if I could have a lovely birth. I would smile and think "yeah right, lady." Nowhere in my history did the words lovely and birth belong in the same sentence.