Hudson is here. He's finally here.

It goes without saying that Hudson's birth was an emotional experience for all three of us. Hudson of course came out crying, as if the whole affair were rather inconvenient for him. He might have tiptoed out of the womb and slept quietly till Rachel had had an hour or two to recover, if he'd known what kind of day she'd gone through to get him here. (I kid.)

Rachel's midwife sent her to the hospital around 4:00 on Thursday afternoon, July 8th, after Rachel was tested positive for the presence of amniotic fluid, which meant her water had broken. Obviously, this didn't quite happen for her like it does in the movies where they appear to rig to the actresses cans of Sprite set off by low-level explosives. Contractions started shortly after she arrived, but the midwife administered a pill to induce them further. The contractions came on strong at around 9 p.m., but really kicked into high gear shortly after midnight. She endured another five hours of these strong contractions, without an epidural, before she finally decided she'd had enough. The gods disagreed, though, since the epidural didn't set in very well; she ended up feeling the entire hour and 20 minutes of pushing before Hudson finally was born at 9:17 a.m., July 9th.

Rachel has mentioned every time she tells the story of Hudson's arrival how cool it was that the midwife told her to pull Hudson out herself. A unique experience, apparently, and one she relishes.

Rachel's sister Jessie arrived at about 5 a.m. and served as family photographer and head cheerleader throughout the process. She was a tremendously calming influence on Rachel, and I'm so happy she was there to share the experience with us. There were no stirrups on the bed, so I acted as Rachel's right stirrup, holding up a leg and intermittently cheering Rachel on and shutting my mouth through the pushes, depending on Rachel's moment-by-moment mood swings. (No hard feelings, Rachel!) In between contractions and pushes, during the 30 to 45 seconds Rachel had to relax and gear up for the next one, the nurses and midwives caught up on their lives and talked about HR stuff ("I was like, Girl, I already worked that shift, no way am I going to again!" "Did you really say that to her? Good for you!"). I came close to telling the ladies that they may have done this several thousand times, but for us, this was our first, and could they please not act like my wife was the office water cooler. But I opted instead for passive aggression: cold stares, head shaking, and really loud sighs. None of it worked; their conversations were apparently too engaging for them to take notice of the guy helping his wife give birth. Rachel said afterward that she thinks it was their way of easing the tension. Could be. The dirty looks and head shakes were my way, then, I guess. Seems to me if they were purposefully trying to do anything, it was more a redirection of the tension toward them. I think it was just them trying to get through another rote shift delivering babies. That said, Rachel loved the midwife; she talked for literally eight hours straight, which drove me bonkers -- but again, Rachel said that was helpful to her because it took her mind off the pain. Fair enough. Anyway.

When Hudson's grey, conical head popped out, his face grimacing as if in the middle of a blood-curdling cry -- one that made no sound whatsoever, as his lungs had not yet been cleared -- I myself cried. It was an overwhelming and inexplicable experience, to watch this little life of his, of ours, begin.

Below are a few pictures from the hospital.

(By the way, late afternoon, the first day of our stay in the hospital, a water main just outside burst, leaving us without running water for most of our 48-hour stay. Nurses came in periodically to pour water into our well-used toilets. Not quite a third-world birth experience, but it was rough!)

His cries were so adamant, but so quiet, too, as if released through several blankets. I didn't realize that was the case with newborns.

Resting on his mother's chest.

"Rooting." A for effort; F for execution.

Hudson and his old man.