Nov 4th- Continued

Read part one here.

A little annoyed to be finding out that I was in labor from his brother-in-law, John asked if we needed to go to the hospital or not.

I shook my head. “We only need to go once they are closer together. But we should start timing them.”

John made himself breakfast as I paced around our living room. I wasn’t anxious to go to the hospital yet, but the contractions were definitely getting stronger. John took a shower and I checked that my bag was 100% ready to go.

After timing them, we realized, um, we should probably go to the hospital.

So, at around nine in the morning, we grabbed our bags and walked out to the car. John opened up the trunk, put our bags inside, and pulled out the infant car seat we’d been storing in there “just in case.”

We thought we should install it now.

It was a lot more difficult then we thought it would be.

We found the car seat anchors and attached the base to them, but it seemed awfully loose. John searched the owner’s manual for the instructions. I stood in the cold, trying to help and trying to ignore the pain in my abdomen. I didn’t succeed on either of these points.

John was able to figure out how to marginally tighten the base, and we clicked in the car seat, swearing that we’d figure out how to tighten it later.

Then, we were off. I swear, every slow driver in the world decided to pull out in front of us.

“My wife is in labor! Get out of the freaking way!” John yelled. I laughed and breathed.

“This is the one time we can legitimately speed and we can’t get around these cars,” I joked.

John laid on his horn at another car.

Eventually, we made it to the hospital and pulled into the emergency room parking area. There was a spot near the door, and I slowly made my way to the door.

We gave our names, why we were there (we’re having a baby!), were admitted, and an orderly pushed me to our room in a wheelchair.

Our nurse, Michaela, and midwife, Angie, checked me, determined that my water had broken and despite the fact that I was 1 cm dilated, I could stay at the hospital.

to be continued.

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November 4th. The beginning.

I woke up that morning at 4 am, having to pee. This was a perfectly normal for my almost-nine-month-pregnant-self. A small human was bear-hugging my bladder (or at least that’s how it felt).

Heaving myself out of bed, I hobbled over to the bathroom (my back always ached, even sleep not offering a respite from feeling constantly assaulted by my new rotund shape) and slid closed our squeaky door.

After, I made my way back to sleep. As I started to lower myself down to the bed, I felt a warm gush of liquid down my legs. I jumped back out of bed and into the bathroom. Fluid poured down my legs for a little bit and I stared at my wet underwear/ sweats with disbelief.

Was this it? Was it really starting? The moments I had been thinking/ hoping/ wishing/ dreading/ avoiding thinking about/ dwelling on since that second line appeared on the stick?

Was I having a baby?

I walked back into the bedroom and shook my husband awake (not an easy task) and told him in a shaky voice:

“I’m pretty sure my water just broke. I’m not having any contractions yet, so you should go back to sleep. It could be a while yet.”

He nodded at me with half open eyes, rolled over and went back to sleep. I crawled into bed next to him.

And then they started.

They would plague me for the next 25 hours. They would reduce me to a weeping, hysterical woman begging them to stop, swearing I couldn’t go on.

Contractions.

Of course, at this point, they weren’t bad. Not at all. They didn’t even hurt yet. Just pressure/ discomfort, but not pain. But they were strong enough to keep me awake. I kept moving in the bed and worried I was bugging John. So I got out of bed and went to the couch.

I sat on the couch for the next three hours. I was so excited. This is happening. This is happening. This is happening.

But I was also a little bored.

I’m such a product of the social media generation. Was this really happening if no one knows its happening? I mean, really, the only person who has any clue besides me that  my son had begun to make his way into the world was in the next room staring at the back of his eyelids.

So, I texted my sister. She happens to be married. Her husband happens to be the president of the ministry that John and I both work for.

Around eight in the morning, John came out of the bedroom with his phone in his hand.

“So Brian texted me. I guess your contractions have started?”

Oops.

to be continued.