A birth story

As you know, Madeleine Cate Murphy came into the world on Feb. 7. What you may not know is how she came to be here several weeks early and how her entry forecasts -- I believe -- her amazing future.

Like Patrick and me, she wanted to wait until the end of Project Runway (in hopes Ricky would get kicked off!) but shortly thereafter she couldn't stand it anymore. She gave mom major pains, which I was sure was a false alarm (and I even proceeded to tell everyone at the hospital -- apologetically -- that the whole family was likely there in a false capacity). But soon enough, when it was determined that I was dilated to 3 cm and 90 percent effaced, the hospital staff was pretty sure we would stay.

The confirmation came when I started to throw up and then have what we later learned were called titanic contractions. Let me tell you, you don't want those. Now, I always thought I wouldn't be one of those moms, burdening everyone else in describing how painful their labor was and how it lasted forever, so bear with me because I don't really feel like labor was that bad, nor was the pregnancy. In fact, I have told almost everyone that my pregnancy was quite nearly blissful, and Patrick remarked on several occasions that I would probably miss it.

No, labor wasn't awful -- even when I began to have several contractions that lasted between six and nine minutes -- each! We muddled through, knowing that we were in store for the ultimate moment we'd been anticipating for so long. Sure, the contractions were mighty painful -- even doubling-over painful -- but I expected all that.

And when we heard ladies screaming in the adjacent rooms, the nurse promptly told me to ignore them. (My mom later said that all I really said was "Owwwww. Ooooowwwwwww!") The labor became easier with the epidural (which I didn't want but accepted because of the titanic contractions). The whole process was really beautiful up until the point that Madeleine's heart rate started to drop -- dramatically -- during my long contractions. The doctor remarked that he had never seen a uterus act like that.

We tried to wait it out but after a contraction that lasted about nine minutes, and several very anxious moments watching Madeleine's heart rate plummet again and then slowly creep back up, the doctor said we'd have to do a C-section to get the baby out -- fast. We knew it was serious when about 15 people swarmed in my room, and I was on the operating table in full blue garb and poofy surgical cap a few minutes later.

Madeleine was born about ten minutes later at 12:42 p.m. -- about 12 hours after we arrived. The bottom line, in my opinion, is that she wanted to make a grand entrance. (After all, the length of my contractions quickly turned to a sort of folklore with the hospital staff.)

So I predict great things for our beautiful little baby. Let's face it: It's obvious she likes to do things in a big way!