Kyle Erik Mellevold

My water broke just before midnight on New Year's Eve. I was sick and tired of being pregnant and it broke as I bounded up the stairs, pounding my feet on each step, GUSH! We were on the road to the hospital at midnight. The roads, of course, were empty except for the lying-in-wait highway patrol.

I got checked in at the hospital and examined. My labor hadn't yet started and the nurse said I was only 1/2 centimeter dialated. She suggested that my husband go home 'cause "this baby won't be born 'til tomorrow." He wisely decided to stay by my side. My labor started around 2:00 am. Everything was pretty manageable for a while. Sometime around 5:00 am I progressed to more intense breathing. The nurses hadn't examined me in hours. Finally my husband dragged one of the nurses in and she says, "Oh, you're 9 centimeters, we better call the doctor!" I soon had the urge to push. As I was being wheeled down to the delivery room, one of the nurses said to try some pushes. After one, she said, "No, don't do that anymore!" In the delivery room, I pushed a couple of times and the baby's head was born. I heard the nurses say, "It's a girl." Then the rest of the baby was born and I'm told, "It's a boy." I was confused; I soon learned that the nurses had a running contest going of being able to guess the sex from the baby's face. So, my beautiful baby son was born at 6:13 am on New Year's morning.

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