Last Thursday night Jeff and I sat down to watch The Office, as we try to do most Thursday nights. I always look forward to the time because the show is pretty dang amusing and it is one of the few times we set aside to just be together and relax. On the commercial breaks, I found myself apologizing to Jeff for the millionth time about my behavior over the past few days. (I probably should've been apologizing for my behavior the past few months, but let's not go there...) It's not that I was horrible, I was just done.
It's a feeling I got the last week of my pregnancies with both Ree and the boys, and I'd had the feeling all week. It didn't help that my body kept sending signs that the end was near. Most women, especially those who were already full term, would be rejoicing, but I am dumb and had mixed feelings. Part of it was I felt (at least at SOME level) that I should finish a work project before the baby came, and I needed to work through this Tuesday to do so. I was also hoping that the baby would wait until my parents arrived in town on Saturday. If they were here, they could easily step in and take care of the kids and dogs while I was at the hospital. If the baby came sooner, things would be more complicated. On the other hand, I was so huge and miserable. There was definitely a part of me that was really, really ready to have this baby.
And it seemed like my body had been trying to go into labor all week. On Saturday, following an hour of pushing the boys and a shopping cart through Walmart, I started having some pretty noticeable contractions that only subsided after an insane eating binge at the mall food court. (Who knew it was possible to inhale an entire slice of Sbarro pizza in under 45 seconds followed by most of an order of teriyaki chicken and shrimp from a Japanese restaurant?) More contractions on Sunday that only let up when I was horizontal. I did get a lot of the newspaper read that way. Monday morning I started shaking while getting ready for work and wondered if anyone would notice if I wore my pajamas to work. (I thought this was a toss up. I work with accountants. They dress up for work, however, accountants aren't necessarily known for being observant of the world around them. I know there are some gentleman I worked with at Deloitte who never would've noticed.) Tuesday I woke up feeling great. So great, in fact, that when I told Jeff how spectacular I felt, he just said, "Uh-oh." Wednesday was a pretty regular day until I tried to empty the dishwasher after dinner. I started by putting the silverware away, and I only got halfway through before I had to stop.
So Wednesday night I had a little chat with the baby while in the shower. I said it would be great if we could postpone labor at least 68 more hours. However, if she needed to come out for some reason, I didn't want her staying in to the point it was dangerous. She just squirmed as usual.
I have a disturbing ability to compartmentalize when necessary, and I am usually good at switching off home drama while at work. On Thursday, I completely failed, and the crazy, angry pregnant woman that resides at home showed up at work. In a large meeting. Whoopsie-doodle. I don't think the situation was nearly as bad as my as my anal-retentive brain made it out to be, but I hated to lose my composure at work, even briefly.
But all of this was behind me as we watched The Office, and I just sat there and laughed hysterically. It wasn't that the episode was all that funny. It was just I finally had a chance to relax. It felt good. After the episode I took a shower and got ready for bed. I crawled into bed around 10:30 and spent some time talking to Jeff who was also up reading.
Around 10:40 or 10:45 I felt a pop. Fairly certain that I knew what it meant, I trooped into the bathroom. Yup, my water had broken. In my mind, I said this to Jeff, but apparently all I told him was that I had felt a pop, and when he asked if he needed to get dressed or do anything, I just said I needed to call my midwife to find out what she wanted us to do. I paged her, and while waiting for a return call, I went ahead and started packing my toiletries. She called back quickly, and she and I had a brief conversation. She asked a bunch of questions including was the fluid clear, was the baby moving normally, and was I having contractions. When I answered "yes, yes, no," she said she would see me in the morning or when my contractions got serious. (For the record, I love her. You know an OB would've wanted to see me immediately.)
Once Jeff heard me tell her that my water had broken, he sprang into action, knowing my prior delivery history. By the time I waddled out of the bathroom to report my conversation, he was already dressed and asked what he needed to do. I repeated what she said, said there was no need to rush, and I think he basically rolled his eyes at me. (It's weird, from my prior two pregnancies, I know exactly what happened up until the babies were born, but things are fuzzy after that. This time is the exact reverse, so this is being put together from hazy memories, text and call records from my phone, and conversations with those involved.) I told him we should probably work on figuring out what to do with the kids. I had him start packing a bag of activities for them in case we needed to take them to the hospital with us while I worked on calling and texting our backup babysitters.
My first contraction arrived at 11:01, and by 11:07 I was already on my third. They weren't monstrous, but they weren't subtle either. I had been pacing around, and Jeff had me plop down on the couch as I rode them out. It occurred to me that the contractions were awfully close together, and I told Jeff we should probably just go to the hospital. So he finished helping pack my stuff and went to wake up the kids while I called my midwife. I told her we'd be at the hospital in about 30 minutes and she said she would be waiting. I hadn't been able to get ahold of any of our emergency backup babysitters, (apparently they were all having a fabulous Thursday night!) so I also confirmed that kids were still allowed in Labor and Delivery. She said absolutely. Phew. Not that I had any clue what we would do with them when we got there, but at least we could be together.
As Jeff finished loading the car, I talked to the kids and told them we would be having a sleepover at the hospital. They all had stuffed animals and blankies, and I said they could all sit on the pull-out sofa in my hospital room. We discussed the room, and decided it was a hybrid of a doctor's office and a hotel. Then we talked about how mommy might make some scary noises, but they were just to help the baby come out. They seemed okay with all of this.
I waited until the last second to climb into the car since sitting down sounded like absolute torture. I wanted to be vertical. As we were driving along, my contractions got worse. I was incredibly relieved that Ree hadn't asked to play a game in the car. She always plays a game with the person riding shotgun, and, go figure, I was not up to it. I also started reconsidering my birth plan. I had planned on an unmedicated, natural birth, but those contractions were starting to kick my ass. I didn't know if I could go without drugs, especially in front of the kids.
As we got closer to the hospital, I started counting traffic lights, but I could sense I would be able to make it to the hospital without giving birth. It was strange; I just knew it. When we got there, Jeff pulled up to the entrance and started to walk in with me. I was so relieved to be vertical again, that I told him I could manage to get up to labor and delivery on my own. (It really was a short walk.) I was far more concerned about the kids sitting in the car with the motor running in the ghetto than I was about my ability to get to Labor and Delivery.
I could all but feel the nurses roll their eyes at me as I staggered to the front counter. It was about 11:45, and here I was "desperately" in labor. Uh-huh. I'm sure they were thinking it was either a false alarm or they'd see the baby around noon the next day. I tried to fill out the paperwork between contractions, but I only got as far as writing my first name. They finally asked if I was alone. I told them, no, my husband was on his way, but he had to get the kids out of the car. We didn't have time to track down a babysitter. I was looking down, but there had to be more eye rolling. Puh-leeze.
They did take pity on me, though, and said that perhaps they should get me into a room. I started heading to triage, but they actually took me back to a delivery room. Thank goodness. The thought of having to lie down with a monitor on was just hideous. As I was walking, I spotted my amazing and wonderful midwife waiting for me. I didn't know it at the time, but she took one look at my face and grabbed a pair of gloves. I've been under her care since 10 minutes after Michael was born. (Since I was no longer pregnant with twins, I was low-risk again, and released from physician care at that point). She knows me.
We walked into the room and I immediately spied the humongous birthing tub. It was seriously the size of a 6-person jacuzzi. I could just imagine it all filled up with luxurious warm water. Unfortunately, on the drive, I had already ruled out the tub for fear the kids would all want to go swimming. I managed to put my purse down, and I asked if I could go to the bathroom. Someone asked if I needed to push. I said yes, but honestly, until that question was posed, it hadn't occurred to me once that I need to. With the other kids, I felt a definite urge to bear down and push at the end. I hadn't felt that at all this time. It felt a lot more like I should've avoided the second serving of broccoli at dinner.
We headed into the bathroom, and I think I just stood there for a second. Thankfully someone had the sense to take off my shoes and pants. I started to sit down, but that meant not being vertical, and I quickly stood back up. I can't tell you exactly what happened, but within a VERY short period of time, my midwife said, "She has lots of hair. Your baby will be in your arms in just a few minutes."
Wha? Huh??? I'm having a baby? NOW????
There was no way I was moving anywhere for any reason, and thankfully I had a midwife who never asked me to try to make it back to the bed. So there we stood, over the toilet, while I delivered. Around 11:54 Natalia was born, and as she was handed to me, I quickly scooped her into my jacket and nuzzled her in my pajama shirt. No backless hospital gown for me!
Natalia didn't cry at first, and by that time, a full staff of nurses were crowded into the bathroom trying to do their jobs. One of her nurses was worried that she wouldn't cry, but she was looking around and wasn't purple, so I wasn't too worried. When Natalia did start crying, she started WAILING. At that point my midwife asked if I could move to the bed so she could cut the umbilical cord. As I sat down on the bed I asked if someone could please find my husband and kids. They shouldn't be too hard to spot.
They weren't yet in the hall, so as soon as the cord was cut, I asked if my purse was in the room and, if so, if someone could bring me my phone. A nurse brought me the phone and also grabbed my camera. There is a great photo of me trying to call Jeff. Before I could hit send, though, I heard a nurse say they had arrived.
We have been reading lots of books to the kids about new babies, and I can't help but make fun of The Berenstain Bears and The New Baby. In it, Brother Bear outgrows his little bed, so he and Papa Bear go off into the woods to make him a new bed. When Brother and Papa arrive back at the house, Mama Bear has given birth, rearranged the furniture, and the new baby is all tucked into Brother's old bed. It's just so corny and ridiculous. But it popped into my head as the kids came into the room and I said with more energy than I've mustered since Halloween, "Hi, guys! Meet your new sister!" I'm pretty sure Jeff's jaw hit the floor.
1 comment:
Dude. Poor guy hadn't even parked the car. Will you ever have a normal birth story?
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