At this point, the nurse decided to put another monitoring system on me. She pulled off the remaining strap around my belly and inserted a new one to monitor my contractions better. By doing this, she knocked Farrah's monitor loose and had to put in another. My vagina had to have looked like a 1960s television with several different antennas poking out. They never mention women having to experience that in "A Baby Story". I was now at 9+ cm. The nurses told me to let them know when I started to feel pressure in my "bum". That is the term they used. If I started to feel a lot of pressure downstairs, then I would be able to begin pushing. They also said since things were moving along so beautifully, they would raise me up a bit in the bed and allow gravity to do its job and help Farrah down. This way it made it so I wouldn't have to push as much if it worked.
I began feeling the bum pressure. When people were in the room, I would sit there and talk to them and then hope they didn't notice that I was trying to bear down whenever I got a contraction. It wasn't like I felt like I needed to push as much as I wanted to get the show going. The nurse came in and I let her know that the pressure had changed. She checked me one last time and let me know that I was fully dialated and we were ready. The doctor came in and took a look and said, "Oh my gosh, she's ready. Come and look at her head." Mike, who said he'd never look at the danger zone, quickly stood next to the doctor, took a peak, and looked up at me like a kid who just saw every toy he wanted Christmas morning. The look on his face will be ingrained in my mind forever. He quickly left the room and announced to everyone in the waiting room that we were ready to start pushing and that Farrah had a full head of black hair. Everyone was giddy. He came back in.
I had asked that my mom and Mike's mom be in the room. Later, I had also added my father to the list of lucky on-lookers. At some point my grandma snuck in and planted herself down on the couch and made herself comfortable. There was no way I wasn't going to let her stay to watch her great-granddaughter be born. Finally, before the action started, I told Mike that I wanted Evie to be there. She had been so great throughout my pregnancy as a source of inspiration, friendship, confidence, and support. I would not have felt right if I didn't ask her to be there.
So, there we were. The nurses and the doctors were telling me what to expect and when to push and for how long. Mike was at my side holding my head and he kissed my face. We told each other that we loved each other. My mom was holding my left leg and decided since it was just heavy dead weight, she couldn't hold it. Mike took my leg and my head. The first contraction hit, I grabbed both legs in the back, my chin was to my chest, and I pushed with everything I had. Everyone counted to ten three times for three big pushes. I completely broke down in tears. I cried so hard. There was no pain, just a realization that everything that I had wanted with Mike was finally coming. We were going to have a daughter. We were going to have a family. I was going to go home with my husband and my little girl. Mike grabbed me and kissed me. Again, we told each other how much we loved each other. (Getting choked up) We probably kissed 3-4 more times before the next contraction came on. It came, I pushed. I was making some serious progress. I watched the monitor to see when the next one was coming, the nurses weren't paying attention and I suddenly grabbed my legs for another push. They got on board and started the counting. Everyone seemed to think that I was watching Farrah's heart rate. I had no concerns about how she was doing. I knew she was okay. I just knew that I had a job to do and was ready to get things going. With my third set of pushes, after my third count I told the nurses and doctor that I had another push in me if they needed it. No. The contraction was over and therefore, I couldn't push. I had two more sets and finally the doctor told me to look down and see my daughter. Her head was out. She told me to give her one last big push. Plop! That was it. She was out and crying. I was crying, too. Crying hard. Mike got choked up and teary eyed, but tried to keep his cool and not completely lose it. The whole room was up in a sweet roar of "Oh my God, she's beautiful!" and of course, "Oooohhh" and "Ahhhhh". I pushed six times and for 20 minutes.
The nurses took her to her observation bed and made sure everything looked alright. They had to do that because of her heart rate dropping. Mike was by her side the whole time. My mom came over and kissed me and told me that I did a great job and how perfect Farrah was. While all the excitement was going on and she was being checked out, all I could do was watch her from my bed 10 feet away. I kept my eyes on her the whole time. It felt weird. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel yet, because I hadn't held her or truly looked at her. I just kept watching her. It was good that I did so that I wouldn't have to pay attention to what was going on with me "downstairs". The doctor and the nurse were drawing the cord blood for storage and I was getting stitched up. I later found out that I had had an episiotomy. Ouch. They stamped Farrah's feet and added a couple extra stamps on Mike's white t-shirt that we brought along. He now has a shirt with his daughter's foot prints. So cute.
Finally, they wrapped Farrah up in a blanket, put a hat on her, and handed her over to her father. He kissed her and talked to her as he walked her over to me. He introduced her to me and handed her to me. I cried again and laughed. Mike grabbed his cell phone and took a picture of me. I hadn't seen it until hours later. Even now, I get so choked up when I see the picture because it shows nothing but pure joy. That was such an amazing moment. I will never forget it and I'm so glad I get to write all of this because I'll get to read it and experience it over and over. And my little girl will get to know how wanted and loved she was and is. Welcome to our family, Farrah Raquelle Moody.