Happy New Year and a Welcome to Quinn

It's 2012 and the zoo is off to a rousing start - mostly because of Baby #4's arrival in the waning minutes of 2011. That's right, ten minutes before the clock struck twelve, Quinn came into the world, and I heard the announcement "It's a boy!"
It was not the easy delivery that I expected in a fourth pregnancy. Nor was it quick. In fact, the pattern displayed by Quinn led to suspicions that I was carrying either a boy or a very very stubborn child. After days and days of discomfort, painful Braxton-Hicks contractions, and being dilated at 2cm, my water broke at 3am on December 31st. I awoke in a pool of warmish water in bed, and wondered which kid had peed the bed. Then I realized it was a lot of fluid and centered around me. Like the pregnancy books state, I did not go into labour right away. Despite my mother's worried insistence that I get to the hospital immediately, I refused and showed her the slip of paper that advised women not to go to the hospital unless there were regular contractions. Eventually, that occurred around 7am.
But alas, those contractions I was experiencing were not "real" contractions, according to the nurses. I was only 3 cm. In my mind, I swore I wasn't leaving the hospital without a baby in my arms. I was sent walking around the hospital for an hour to see if labour would progress. Every six minutes, I'd have a contraction, and more amniotic fluid would gush out. When the hour was up, we went back to the labour and delivery assessment unit to be assessed. Still 3 cm.
However, given the rupture of the membranes, and despite the rule against "inducing labour" in a vaginal birth after caesarean section, I was admitted and prepped for the administration of oxytocin.
Our labour nurse was a bit scary, although she did become more approachable as the hours dragged on. And drag on, they did. My sister Shunaha came in to spend a few hours, hoping to witness the birth before flying home to Minnesota on January 1st.  When she left, I was still 3cm. I was beginning to despair the hope of having a baby in 2011 and began to worry about having to undergo another c-section if there was no movement on the labour front. The drug dosage was increased. The contractions were becoming unbearably painful. Until this point, Wayne had been sitting in a corner, enjoying the book The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. At this point, I needed to cling and squeeze the heck out of his arm to get through the pain. After what felt like an eternity, the anaethesiologist arrived with the epidural equipment. The relief was almost instantaneous. I was introduced to the labour nurse who coming on shift, and instructed to rest and sleep. Sound advice but difficult to follow, partly because every five minutes, the blood pressure cuff is inflating, or I'm being poked and prodded by the nurse, or told to turn over to a side to evenly distribute the epidural's effects. And partly because I was nurturing a hope the epidural would kick start the dilation efforts and there was an eagerness growing within me to meet this child.
By 8pm, I was 5cm. At 10pm, I was 8 cm. My sister Shunaha texted that she was on her way to the hospital. When she arrived at 11pm,  I was 10cm, and preparations were underway for the delivery. The nurse was readying the newborn kit, the bed was being converted into delivery mode, the overhead spotlights were lit. Meanwhile, I was huddled under the sheets, holding onto a puke bowl and feverishly glancing at the clock, wondering if I would have a baby this year or the next. The push for the baby's arrival started at 11:15. At 11:50pm, with the assistance of the vaccuum, Quinn entered the world, mewling and pooping. Since the labour pattern was similar to his older brother Devlin, I shouldn't have been surprised when it was announced that Quinn was a boy, but I was still stunned. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered if Quinn had turned out be a girl, but now I felt a completeness to our family.
Just like his older brother and sisters, Quinn was covered from head to toe in hair. Even the tips of his ears. Once placed upon my chest, and the umbilical cod was cut, we examined his tiny features more closely. All ten toes and ten fingers were present. His tiny eyes blinked slowly as he gazed about in an unsure manner. When he was finally weighed, he came in at 3.456kg, or 7pounds, 6oz, which makes him the heaviest by 0.1ounce. Not even 30 minutes old, Quinn displayed a knack for feeding, and had no trouble latching on.

Too soon, Auntie Shunaha had to leave since she was flying back home to Minnesota in the morning. He was kissed and cuddled after a slew of pictures. Excited phone calls were made. Eventually, Quinn and I were settled into our room. And where did he spend the night? Or what remained of the night? In my arms. He refused to settle into the plastic bassinet, and protested mightily whenever the nurse or I placed him in there. So, exhausted after being awake for 24 hours, I cuddled him into my arms, and we both fell asleep within minutes. Since that moment, Quinn has declared in no uncertain terms, that he prefers to slumber in a pair of arms or cuddled up against a warm body. Yes, it's a bad habit already, but it's also my last baby, and I'd be lying if I stated I didn't enjoy the cuddling.