I started having contractions on June 7th... although for most of the day, I wasn't sure if they were serious or not. I walked, interviewed a pediatrician, had a prenatal massage, ate dinner, watched TV, and they gradually got more intense. I finally started texting my doula about them, and she arrived at my house around midnight. I labored at home, breathing through the contractions, listening to soothing music, mostly while crouched on all fours. We left for the hospital in the early morning on the 8th. After an excruciating cervical check, I was delighted to hear that I had dilated to 4 cm, and was 100% effaced! So they admitted me, and I immediately asked if I could keep laboring in one of those large bathtubs, which I fantasized about doing. I spent hours crouching in the tub, vocalizing loudly, like I was back in my high school theatre classes. The nurse visited me multiple times, trying to convince me to get the IV hep lock in both hands, just in case. I really wanted to focus on my contractions, and kept putting it off. The staff eventually convinced me to get one IV, and I got out of the tub. After several folks from the IV team tried unsuccessfully to install the IV (I have tiny veins), it felt like an hour had passed, and my contractions had slowed way down. I had worried that something like that might happen. I was irritated.  In the late afternoon, the CNM on call wanted to check my progress. I screamed: cervical checks are the WORST! 5 cm. I had only progressed 1 cm in my whole hospital stay so far. I felt crushed. They were starting to talk about augmenting my labor. The CNM encouraged me to take a walk outside for a break. I walked through a labyrinth mosaic in the hospital courtyard, holding my husband's hand, while my doula watched. The contractions hit me like crashing waves, and I felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I told my husband and doula that I was seriously considering asking for the epidural. They talked with me at length, telling me how strong I was, wanting to make sure I wouldn't regret the decision. (I had been determined to go all natural up until this point.) I said I felt like it was the right thing for me to do, and I wanted badly to rest and feel relief from the pain. In the evening, I got the epidural, and I was so glad. I also agreed to Pitocin, since I wouldn't feel the effects of it. I dozed on and off, all night, while my labor progressed further and further. At some point, they became concerned about some heart decelerations in my baby, although they would immediately jump back up to normal each time. They tried several minor interventions to make them go away, but couldn't completely do it. They also became concerned because I developed a low fever from chorioamnionitis (probably from so many cervical checks.) I was starting to worry when they mentioned the possibility of a C section. Thankfully, by the end of the night, I had reached a 10, and would be able to push the next morning, on June 9th. A new nurse came on duty, and at first I thought she was a little sour looking. It turned out she was just the person I needed. Like a seasoned athletic coach, she encouraged me to push with everything I had. I was laying on my side with someone holding each leg, pulling on my doula's colorful Rebozo, which was wrapped around a bar. My moans turned into powerful roars as I pushed. It was such an intense feeling of pressure and excitement. They gave me a mirror, but when I didn't see much, I clenched my eyes and thought I would wait until there was more to see. It turns out, everything happened much faster than I expected. Everyone was out of the room for some reason, except for my doula, my husband, and the nurse. When my baby was about to emerge, the doula dropped my leg and ran to the doorway saying, "We need some help in here! There's a baby coming." Everyone rushed inside, and I felt him slide out. My doula told me that his eyes were open as he was being born, and as soon as he heard my voice, he turned his head and looked right at me. The feeling was incredible. All I wanted to do was to see his face, but I had to lie still while they stitched me up. (2nd degree tear.) My son laid on my chest and waited for me. I was so grateful to see his face, to know that he and I would both be safe and sound. Even though the labor and delivery did not go exactly the way I had hoped (and whose does, really?) I'm glad to say that all the elements I dreamed of being there, WERE. And we are both well. And so in love.