My first birth: the nurse checking me and saying, "Oh, he has a lot of hair!" - that was surreal; the OB telling my mom that pushing could take two hours, then seeing me push for the first time and saying, "Nevermind, this will be ten minutes!"; and, stupid as it my sound, realizing that there actually had been a baby in there, the first thing I said when he was put on my belly was, "There really was a baby in there!"; the OB saying, "You're just made to have babies.. you could have fifteen if you wanted!"
My second birth: the quiet time between when I got the epidural and when I started to feel the need to push--it was late at night, and my husband and I just waited, but with this great anticipation, since we knew how wonderful having another baby was actually going to be; after the NICU team checked him out (meconium in the water) and they said that he was fine; the (male, yikes!) OB telling me what a great job I did.
My third birth: being able to handle contractions the way I wanted, not being tied to a bed; my husband following my lead and giving me space during contractions, but in between, holding a cold facecloth to my forehead, and telling me that it wouldn't be much longer; hearing him beg me to please get off the toilet and move to the bedroom when I started pushing (the midwife wasn't there yet, and thankfully I was aware even at that moment how funny he sounded); opening my eyes after she had slipped out, to see the look of complete surprise and awe as my husband held his first daughter in his hands; my midwife telling me that I'm just meant to have babies, and that I could have dozens (apparently, that's a recurring comment from my caregivers, heh).
Mommy to Colwyn, 10/03 ~ Lachlann, 8/05 ~ Fiona, 6/08 ~ Niall, 5/10