At 6:45am on Monday, February 2nd I woke Colin up. 'Colin... I think we're in labour'. When I heard myself say it, I was shocked by how calm my voice was. Was 9 months of anticipation, hoping and dreaming leading up to this day? So many hours spent wondering what our birth story would be and praying that this unborn baby that we loved so much would make it into the world safely. We were about to live our story. I won't go into too much detail, especially where things get 'real' but, for me, this was the greatest experience of my life. The most challenging, and with the greatest reward. Every mom out there, regardless of how their babies got here, is a superwoman and deserves applause wherever she goes. It was a slow start to the day. Between the contractions (that, in hindsight, were laughable compared to what was coming) we made waffles, watched movies (pieces of them) and looked at a scrap book of notes and drawings from our first year together. I thought 'this is a big day, life is about to change, let's reminisce'. We walked Bruce to my parents house in the rain (one of many walks that morning) and knew we wouldn't see him again until we had his little brother in our arms. Mind.Blown. Basically, fast forward 17 hours from that first contraction and eating my beautiful waffles- I was no longer that cheerful waffle eating girl. I was a heap, slumped over my beloved yoga ball in a corner of our bedroom making all kinds of crazy sounds trying to cope with an amount of pain that was foreign to me. I had been doing this for 8 hours...it was 1am and Colin had not left my side. Our midwife came to our house (our sweet labour angel...appropriately named Grace) and stayed with us for the rest of our journey- having me walk up and down the stairs, get in the bath tub, the shower, whatever it took to move this baby along until we were ready to go to the hospital and, ideally, spend as little time there as possible. We followed her to the hospital in what was the most excruciating ride of my life. I was flung over the back seat with my upper body in the trunk (because sitting upright during a contraction is ...just don't.) Thankfully it was the wee hours of the morning so the trip to RCH was as short as it would ever be. The delivery ward was quiet and empty... the lights were dim and the only people in the delivery room were Colin, Grace, and a nurse whose face I can't remember. That was the point at which I doubted myself with every fibre of my being. I didn't think I could do it. I drifted in and out of conscious thought. Wondering how they were going to get him out because I was certain that I wouldn't be able to accomplish it myself. Nobody had offered me any drugs and I didn't ask for them. That's just the way it happened. And so I felt everything. E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. The pain was no joke. Being told that I was doing a good job and that we would be meeting him soon was so crucial at that point. I prayed. Breeze past all of the nitty gritty details in there that, while beautiful to me, you may not want to know. Then, somehow in those final moments, knowing that if I could just muster the strength and courage to do this we would have our son, the pain became irrelevant and I did it. He was here. iphoneography Oliver Ronald Giles, our darling 8.5lb boy, came into the world at 7:23 am on Tuesday February 3rd, with one arm up like a tiny superhero. The moment they put him on my chest... I have never felt so much emotion and love and pride. He was swollen and bruised and the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. Colin took a photograph (that no one will EVER see) of me in that moment. The expression on my face is one that I have never seen before. I will cherish it. Then there's Colin. I love him as my husband - but now, I also love him as father to our son and that is something that reaches deeper into my soul than I thought possible. Dear Oliver You are here. You are perfect. You are so loved and we are blessed to call you ours.

Oliver - the arrival of our darling boy