I’ve always thought time was fickle - the way it can bounce between “dragging on” to “flying by” back to “never-ending” in such a short span.

Just like it did with you.

The way those first four months of pregnancy - full of endless (all day) sickness, relentless fatigue, and a trip to the hospital - seemed to mercilessly stretch the limits of time. And then suddenly I was racing (read: nesting) to get all the “things” done and desperately grasping at every fleeting second I had left with your older brother, knowing his time as an only child was coming to an end.

But to be honest, on the day you were born I thought I would have nothing BUT time; your brother’s labor was 28+ hours and I’d already had two false labors with you that went on for several hours each. So when I started having contractions at around 7:45am, I didn’t think much of it. In fact, I remember scrolling through my phone after dropping your brother off at school and thinking “here we go again.”

It’s almost laughable now how wrong I was.

At 9:23 I messaged your dad letting him know I was having contractions and going to hop in the shower, but reassured him there was “no need to rush home” and we’d still plan on meeting at the birth center at 11 for our already-scheduled appointment.

Six minutes later (9:29) I messaged him again: “might be best if you come home and drive us”...

Thirty minutes after that (9:59): “...good chance we won’t be leaving the birth center…”

When your dad got to the house, he grabbed our bags and was ready to. I was in the kitchen, mid-contraction…writing out my affirmations (the things that go through a laboring mama’s mind are beyond me!). After some protesting, your dad convinced me to get in the car and head to the birth center. As we were driving he prepped to call down our list of key people: Chelsea (to pick up your big brother), Carey (to let her know it was go time) and the midwives at the birth center and, again, I protested “what if this is another false alarm?”, “it could be a while and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone”.

Well, ten minutes and several contractions later - I finally broke and told him he should call people. I’ll never forget him calling into the birth center and calmly saying “Hey, so we are on our way in for our appointment, but we think Danielle is in labor”....only to have me directly interject “I AM IN LABOR…there’s no “thinking” anymore!” During the ride to the birth center, my contractions went from 5 minutes to roughly 2-3 minutes apart. I was still lucid, calm, and could talk between contractions, but I was becoming more and more focused when contractions were hitting - and was also acting as the world’s worst side-seat driver.

At 10:55am we walked into the birth center. I stopped and said “hi” to Janet at the front desk and waved to some of the other staff members before being whisked into one of the rooms with a midwife. She asked some questions about how I was feeling, commented that I still seemed pretty calm, then said she was going to check how dilated I was. After what felt like forever she took a deep breath, smiled, and asked “do you want to guess how dilated you are?”

Um, no.

The last time I had been asked that question was in the early stages of laboring with your brother and, unfortunately, was only 3cms dilated at that point and already 15 hours+ into labor. She laughed when I told her that and said “Danielle, you are 7cms dilated, in transition, and going to have this baby soon. Head straight over to the center.”

Well then.

I walked out of the exam room, waved to Janet, and calmly said “okay then, going to go have a baby now.”

At 11:11am, we got into the car, drove the 30 seconds from the main office to the birth center, and tried to rapidly process how everything had progressed. Time felt like it was being scrunched together and pulled apart all at once and my brain was doing its best to sort it out. Once in the birth center, our midwife, Kim, asked if I wanted to go in the shower or the tub -- I opted for the shower. And for the next hour or so, things were kind of a blur. I am not exactly sure what an out of body experience feels like -- but this was the closest I’ve ever felt to that; I was simultaneously hyper-focused and blithely unaware.

I remember looking at my watch, timing contractions, and talking to myself: “breathe through it, Dani”... then throwing up and profusely apologized for making a mess.

Contraction, breathe… “you can do hard things, you can do hard things”...then apologizing to our photographer for “not giving her much variety” (yes, that really came out of my mouth!).

Contraction, breathe … “trust your body, Dani”... then mumbling that I wasn’t sure if my water just broke or I peed on myself. This one actually got a laugh from everyone (myself included) and then Kim asked if I wanted to have this baby in the shower. I said no, and a few minutes later told everyone it was “time to push”, was wrapped in a sheet, and made my way to the room to deliver you.

My best guess is that pushing was somewhere between 15-20 minutes. I honestly just remember thinking “get this kid out of me” over and over, knowing I was so close to holding you, and hearing Kim and your dad tell me you were almost here “we see his head….his shoulders are out…here comes his torso…”

And at 12:46pm, after what felt like several large pushes, you were here - all 9lbs 1oz of you! Your perfect little cry, your squirmy little legs, your big brown eyes -- time just stopped.

Logically I know there were a billion things going on around me, but at that moment, it was just me, you, and your dad; huddled on that little bed, seeing each other for the first time, and marveling at this life we’d created. I don’t know how long it lasted in reality, but for me it felt like a blissful eternity.

In all - it took you five hours from first contraction to final push to make your debut; only 1.5 hours of that was spent at the birth center. My parents, siblings, and even your big brother didn’t make it to the actual delivery -- there simply wasn’t enough time. But when everyone did show up, you were engulfed in so much love it’s inspiring. We sat together and marveled at your perfect-ness, ate chipotle, and even performed a (somewhat pitchy) rendition of “happy birthday” at the behest of your big brother!

I’ve heard it said that we often don’t know the magic of a moment until it’s passed, and I believe that’s true. But every now and then something miraculous happens - you find yourself in the midst of something profound and life changing - a moment so precious that, even as it’s happening, you know you will never be the same. You were one of those moments, Gavin. You were special, you were magic, and you were perfectly on time.

Hey, I’m Carey!

Your friendly neighborhood doula. Just out here taking photos of babies coming into the world, letting moms know they’re supported in their decisions to trust their body, and watching them do the damn thing.

Wanna talk birth? Let’s GOOOOOO