Ryan did not have a typical American entry into this World. Because of a baby boom, due to the War in Iraq, I was sent to a German doctor and hospital. Because I progressed fast towards the end of my labor, it was too late to get an epidural. So the nurse suggested I get in a birthing tub to ease the pain. Ryan was born in the bathtub after over 40 minutes of the intense, painful labor. Towards the end, because Ryan was having trouble coming out, the doctor started pushing down on my stomach while I was pushing at the same time. It hurt so bad that I actually tried to pretend I was not having a contraction so she would not push down. Anyone who has given birth before knows how futile this is. But I still tried.
Ryan was born at almost six in the morning after being in labor all night. He was big, strong, and very loud. A healthy set of lungs as the polite people would put it. In my mind my baby boy was perfect. After he was born I was exhausted, in a lot of pain, and sad to be separated from my family. But all I could think about was my precious baby boy. I loved him so much. The love was instant and intense. I would just stare at him all day in the hospital and I felt so lucky to have such a beautiful, healthy boy.
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