Wednesday, March 7, 2012

How I Knew It was Labor

Somethings just cannot be explained, they must be lived to be remotely understood. Birth is certainly one of them. I have conquered one of my biggest fears... having a baby. This is how I did it:
On a cold and foggy night...
At exactly 12:59am on Wednesday, January 11, 2012 I woke up with a start. I sat bolt upright, "I think my water broke," I said out loud. Shawn teleported to my side of the bed (seriously, I am sure he broke the sound barrier with how fast he ran around our king-size) saying "What?! What?! Are you sure?! What do we do?!"

"I could have just peed myself," I cautioned. I have snizzed my pantalones on more than one occasion throughout the past 39 weeks. Not pretty, not fun, and (dreadfully) not unusual. "Gross! I did it again!"With another whoosh underway, I just looked up at Shawn's beaming face, then decided to mosey on over to the bathroom. A moment later there was yet another whoosh of water into le toilet. As I suspected I would, I started to voice my doubts. Phrases like "extremely incontinent," "never actually going to come," "only 8% of women's water breaks, I am the 92%" and "not ready not ready not ready" spilled forth from my mouth.
No smiling once the contractions begin

Then the contractions started. Oh my word, the contractions did a-start. "Crap. I think I really am in labor." was answered by Shawn with "I'm not even sorry. I'm so excited."

What to do when you have finally convinced yourself that you will be birthin' a baby:
1. Repack entire hospital bag
2. Make husband take a shower, despite his anxiety baby will be born in bathroom if he does
3. Put a maxi pad on since this faucet drip cannot be turned off once started
4. Unpack hospital bag after remembering need to brush hair and teeth
5. Squeeze into car and backseat drive as husband driver is blinded by pure adrenaline excitement and that deer on the side of the road looks like a jumper
Thank you, Husband Love, for allowing me to see what real pain looks like (also check out the drawer full of my contraction ticker-tape)
I also suggest once you are at hospital, remind your husband that he could have dropped you off at the doors rather than having you hoof it at 2am through a parking lot in the middle of January - do not voice frustration as you both trudge across parking lot in between contractions. Holy mother contractions! The lady that sees you pain and will not help you find triage is definitely the person who only cares if you have insurance, do not be mad at her when she tries to avoid eye contact and pretends not to see you, she knows not what she does. If she does, forget to date a paper so she can search all over the hospital for you until her shift ends at 7am.

Once I was firmly planted in triage and gussied up in my bum-exposing gown, the monitoring began. Contractions were one and a half to two minutes apart and freakin' awful. I would grit my teeth and clench the bed sheet and blankets so hard, my nails could have bored holes through the fabric.

How Henry came to be... to be continued..

1 comment:

Shirley said...

I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the story!