Noah Jay's Birthday.

Noah is named after Papa Jay.

A couple of seconds old.


Big brother's first hold. "I think he likes me."

He's out and I am having real coffee. I have been up every other hour or so for the last three nights and I feel fabulous, somehow. Ethan is playing with his trains and Noah is sleeping, grunting every so often. He reminds me of a tiny little wrestler, or a cowboy. He's tough, despite his floppiness, his lack of neck control.
Labor was NOTHING like last time. I went in thinking, Well, if I leave alive, and the baby is alive, that's all I'm asking for. And right now I can't believe how good I feel. I came home yesterday, just a little bit over a day after having him, and was so ecstatic I could clean all the dog pee off my kitchen floor on my hands and knees. I have almost no blood, after two days. I bled after Ethan's birth for six months.
I mean, comparing the two experiences is almost ridiculous they are so different. Ethan almost killed me, Noah made me feel alive.
We got to the hospital at 2 PM, and I kept thinking there is no way they are going to let me stay, I am not even uncomfortable. My contractions are not consistent. I haven't even timed them.
My doctor (bless her, bless her) told them not to send me away, so they admitted me. As the nurse got me all hooked up to the tubes and wires, I kept thinking, we are going to be here for DAYS. I felt like we were sneaking in, like the nurse staff could tell I was a faker but couldn't send me home. One nurse even asked me, "So why are we here today?" (Uhhh, is that a trick question?)
I told her to have a baby in the most confident voice I could muster up and I hoped she believed me.
They gave me Pitocin and I was nervous as hell about what it was going to do, but it really didn't do anything. My contractions got a little harder, but Joey and I were still just sitting around. At 4 PM my doctor came in and broke my water. I was at four centimeters.
That got things rolling.
It was just me and Joey in the room, it was quiet and dark, and I was sitting on the bed, trying to count through my contractions, up to ten, then back down. My eyes were shut, and I felt like I was in so much pain I could not move, let alone tell Joey that things were getting out of hand and that I felt like my back was getting wrenched open with a crow bar could he please stop turning his back on me to get a drink or chew? I wanted his hand on my back constantly, pushing, counter-acting the pressure of Noah descending. But I couldn't say anything except ohhhhhhhhhh, and an occasional quiet f-word.
At five thirty the nurse came back to check me and I was at a seven. This surprised the heck out of me and despite the pain made me extremely happy. I wasn't convinced however, that I was done, or that labor would continue to go quickly. I knew there was no way I could continue in that pain for hours, stuck, like I was with Ethan, so I said, Yes! Yes! Give me something in that little IV bag to take the edge off. So she did, at the peak of two contractions. I watched her push the drug, which looked like water, into my IV.
Soon I felt a little buzzed, which was great, but the contractions were still there. It was like being in two places at once: my head was relaxed and felt great like I was out with friends a year ago, but my body was still in labor, still on that hospital bed. I don't know how long we were there; it felt like fifteen minutes, and then I felt like my body was going to explode.
I was not convinced that it was my baby my body want to explode out of me. I was so scared. I never felt the urge to push with Ethan, despite pushing like hell for two hours. I told Joey, Help me! Help me! I have to push!
I have never been so scared.
Joey got a nurse super quick and when she checked me all I heard was he's right there, you are ready--and then it was madness. All these people in blue scrubs came rushing in and a HUGE light came down from the ceiling, and I had to scoot my butt to the bottom of the bed and there was my doctor, telling me, One push Danae, one push and we'll have a baby.
I, of course, was still in denial. One push? Yeah right. Shove it.
Later I learned Joey was on the phone, telling his mom that we were starting to push, when he literally got sprayed with a burst of amniotic fluid as Noah slipped out, and he hung up on her.
My doctor told me, You are holding back. Push Danae. I decided to trust her, so I pushed hard, right into that ring of fire, and I felt my body open. I pushed one more time, and out he slipped.
And that was it.
He's beautiful too, you know. Perfect. He lays on my chest, all curled up, like a warm bag of flour, his little face like a doll's. He takes deep breaths sometimes that shiver out him with a little, baby sigh. He's so helpless and just lovely.
God is good to me, gracious and so good.