Waiting is hard.  I'm not talking about waiting for your fast food order or waiting in line at the grocery store.  I'm talking about really waiting.  The kind that only women can experience.  Waiting for your little one to be born.  I suppose that's why so many women are induced because they just don't want to wait any more.  And I can totally understand.
  I thought that I would only have to wait that long for my first.  But my fourth surprised even me by making me wait a week passed my due date.  And if you've passed your due date, you understand that as well.  Because while everyone asks you, "When are you due?"   You don't forget.  It's set date in your mind.  The day something is suppose to happen before or on that date.
May 11. That was mine.  I started having contractions that afternoon so I thought it was soon.  Maybe I would contract throughout the night and maybe not, but by morning, I would be ready.  I had a doctor appointment set for that Monday the 12 at 10 am.  I decided not to go to it.  I was having contractions.  And at my last appointment, I waited (waiting again) for 45 minutes just to be seen.  So I decided instead of going to the doctor and being stressed out, I would stay home and labor and then go to the hospital later that day.  No such luck.  The contractions went away and I remained pregnant and emotional.
 In the mean time, I worked on my to do list.  Which I'm happy to announce that I ended up finishing all of it.
Since I had no other doctor appointment scheduled, I called on Wednesday to see if I could get in to see the OBGYN.  The front staff told me she was all booked, all week.  I asked if I could see one of the other doctors.  Same response.  They were all booked.  What was I suppose to do?  I was past due, with no induction date scheduled, and no other way to see any of the doctors.  Don't they worry about patients at this point?  Was I forgotten?  The only advice the front staff could give me was to try and call back tomorrow.  Lame.
Thursday I called again. And as luck would have it, someone had cancelled.  Thank goodness.  I had my doctor strip my membranes.  I was at maybe a loose 2.  Hmmm.  She told me she could break my water and I could go to the hospital right now.  Now? As much as I wanted to, I felt a little chaotic at that point.  I didn't have arrangements for my kids.  My husband was still working.  Now was not the best timing.  So I went home.  With plans to be induced on the 22nd if nothing happened between now and then.  I hoped I wouldn't have to wait that long.
 Friday morning, still trying to keep my hopes up, I took the advice my sister gave me and used the breast pump for a half hour.  It's not super fun and I didn't produce any milk, but I did allow myself to sit down and watch a movie.  I also tried the natural prostaglandins, without going in to detail.  I thought about trying castor oil, but only briefly.  I was already uncomfortable.  I didn't want to be even more uncomfortable.
Saturday morning I woke up and decided to go for a walk.  And since Glen was going to take all the kids to soccer practice, I had as much time as I wanted.  Right at the point where I was about to turn around and go back home giving myself maybe a 30 minute walk, my mom called.  (Yes, I happened to have my phone with me)  She called to give me some cheering up and a story.  My mom's advice always seems to come in stories.  Just to illustrate the point, you know.  It won't be exactly verbatim, but you'll get the idea.  So this story was about a man who was sailing in the ocean and was ship wrecked.  He took all the belongings he had off the boat and made a small shelter on shore.  The only few items he had, he used to survive.  One night there was a rain storm and lightning struck his shelter causing a fire.  His shelter and all he has was destroyed in the fire.  And when the fire died down and he saw that he had nothing left, he threw himself on the sand and cried, "God, that was all I owned.  Couldn't you let me keep those few things that I have? Why did you have to take everything I had?"  In his sobbing fit, he eventually fell asleep.  When he awoke the next morning he could see a ship coming toward shore.  And when the ship finally arrived, he asked those aboard, "How did you find me?"  And they said, "We saw your signal fire last night, and we came to rescue you."
 So the point my mom was trying to make, was sometimes we don't understand all the reasons why things happen.  But the Lord knows.  And as I was climbing and getting ready to turn around I said, "Mom, you've inspired me.  I think I'm going to climb this mountain."  (staying true to my first post)  I actually had been thinking of climbing the mountain behind my house for some time.  There was this zig zag pattern that I had noticed and I wanted to see where it went.  I was planning on waiting till I was no longer pregnant.  But at that moment, I decided to try it.  And so I did.  I got to the top.  And when you get to that top, you see another.  I could have kept going, feeling drawn in by just one more peak.  But I was running out of fuel, (I had only eaten a banana a peanut butter that morning) so I turned back.  What started out as a 30 minute walk, turned into a two hour one.
  Sunday morning, May 18th, at 5:30 am, I woke up with a hard contraction.  After laying there a few more minutes and another contraction, I decided to get up and shower, thinking, "This could be it."  A  couple more hard ones in the shower and I thought I should be prepared.  When Glen got up for his early morning meetings, I told him we were going to the hospital today.  He proceeded to get his clothes on for church, and I had to say again, "No, we're really going." Trying to convince him of my seriousness and convince myself as well.  But there it really was it.  And I got dressed and got the kids all ready for church, stopping to take breaks when contacting, and then continuing to make breakfast.  And then ten minutes to nine, friends of ours came to take our kids to church, and Glen and I went to the hospital.  I was wheeled upstairs in a wheel chair, even though I said I would rather walk.  But rules are rules.  I was brought into my room where I was stuck with a needle, a million times.  (Yes, it felt like it, but just to draw blood and for an IV nub)  I was hooked up to the monitors, which I still hate, but I tried to be obliging this time.  The nurse checked me.  I was at a 6. My doctor was called, but she was of course out of town.  (This was the weekend)  So another doctor came in.  She asked if I wanted my water broken and I thought, I might as well.  After she did that the bearing down pain was really strong.  I felt like I needed to all the sudden push, but I still had to wait until I was fully dilated to a ten.  I wasn't long though until I was, although at the moment, it couldn't come sooner.  And then it was time to push.  It was at this point that I remember feeling a little panicked.  It was like what I am I suppose to do now? How am I going to make it through this pain? Glen has given me a blessing the previous Sunday that I would be brave and courageous.  That I would know what to do, even when the medical professionals give other advice.  And that I would be able to trust my body.  And so with the nurse on one side helping to hold my foot and Glen on the other, I pushed with determination.  First his head and then his shoulders.  Then the sudden rush of legs and fluid, he was out.  And I breathed a sigh of relief.  My baby boy was here!  I could finally meet him.  Liam Morris Taylor was 9 lbs 7.6 oz and 21 inches long.  The wait was over.