It was 3:53 a.m., almost 14 hours after I had been admitted for induction, and the monitor was no longer picking up my baby's heartbeat. The doctors rushed in and told me to push — I needed to deliver immediately! I bared down and practically threw myself across the room, but it wasn't enough. I didn't have time to breathe. Things became calm chaos — I was advised about the possible use of forceps and/or suction and that a room was being prepped for an emergency c-section. For a split second, I almost panicked, wondering if I would be able to do get my child out. The enormity of the situation hit me, but before I had time to even comprehend it, my husband vented his helpless frustration, turning and saying, "Get the baby out now!" the same way they say "Move that bus!" on Extreme Home Makeover. Holding back laughter, I pushed, giving it all I had, and felt every bit of my 10 lb. 2 oz. son — his head, his shoulders, his legs — leave my body. We welcomed him to the world at 4 a.m. Those were the seven most intense minutes of my life and perhaps also the most rewarding because our family of five was complete.
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