In my young life, I have gone through many ups and downs. The longest decent thus far was nearly a year ago during the birth of my youngest son, Nicholas. This would be my second child, five years prior I had gone through the uncomfortable feat of pregnancy and birth but had no complications and was proud to have a healthy eight-pound baby boy. This unexpected pregnancy had gone well aside from slightly raised risk factors. When the due date came I was ecstatic and as it passed I was simply frustrated. Everyday over my due date felt like a month, and two weeks later I felt like I had endured an eighteen-month pregnancy. Nicholas had decided to take up permanent residency in his uterine home, and no one could convince me otherwise. The dreaded realization came, I would have to be induced. During my pregnancy I nothing much better to do than watch shows and specials on babies and deliveries, almost all which had warnings of induction and other un-natural means of progressing labor. My birthing class even had a special section dedicated to the risks of induction-assisted births. This revelation had dimmed my hopes of having a natural easy labor. My doctor had set a deadline and upon the day of I was to be checked in and started on Pitocin. This day came and I was packed away and driven to the hospital. With my partner and family welcoming me in, my tension had receded and hopes were high again. Through the night and the early morning, I slowly progressed into labor. My original expectations had been for a natural birth without pain medication, however I willing changed my mind around six centimeters desperately needing relief from the agonizing pain. It wouldn't be until later when I appreciated how lucky I was to go ahead and give in to the relief of painkillers. I was dilated fully a little after one in the afternoon, and with my mother and the future father-to-be supporting me, the pushing began. I was pushing with ankles near my shoulders, holding dearly to the hand of my partner while trying to concentrate on my mothers excited breathing commands. When we thought it was almost over, my doctor hurriedly rushed both of them out of the room and I am suddenly surrounded my nurses pulling my legs even further back than I though possible. Already stressed from a difficult labor the panic in the room raises my tension to unbearable limits. I am still being told to push, as hard as I can, while my doctor is trying to explain to me what is going on. She calmly tells me the baby is too big, he is partially delivered and now stuck in the birthing canal, due to the stress he has stopped breathing and they must get him out as soon as possible in order to secure his life. Tears were flooding my eyes as I prayed against the worse possible fate of my son not fully born unto the world as of yet. With a final supportive word from my doctor, I feel her heave my child out of me. Tears of joy and confusion streak my cheeks as Nicholas is placed on my stomach long enough for them to pat him dry and for me to touch his quiet face. They take my child to the other side of the room where the pediatricians had been waiting, and my doctor quickly turns back to assess the damage and prevent further blood lose on my behalf. Seconds had gone by and still my baby had not cried; this crushing pressure was in my heart as each one ticked by. Finally the awaited howl of a disenchanted newborn was heard. My heart exploded with joy and happiness as he is carried out the door to the NICU crying the whole way. My mother and partner were let back into the room, and the doctor explained what had happened in detail. She tells us all appears to be well but additional test must be run before Nicholas could come back to my room. The next four hours drudged past. Even with loved ones around in a supportive effort, I could not wait to hold my new son for the first time. As the evening began to settle in, the first day of August had taken its toll on Nicholas and I but all was forgotten when he was placed in my arms and we shared our first glance into each other's eyes.