On Thursday the 14th, I had my weekly check-up with my OB. I was 41 weeks and 4 days, and feeling more than ready to have the baby; in fact, I’d been telling people that I assumed my doctor would schedule my induction for the following day (and was kind of hoping that he would). However, he was willing to give my body an extra day to go into labor on its own, and scheduled the induction for Saturday, although he candidly told me that he didn’t expect me to make it that long. Even though I was dilated to 3cm (like I had been with Garrett), I tried not to get my hopes up and mentally prepared myself to be pregnant for at least 24 more hours.
The rest of the day was uneventful and I felt perfectly normal. Darrell and I briefly debated having the boys stay at my parent’s house overnight, but ultimately decided that since I hadn’t been having contractions and since my parents would have them for at least two nights while we were in the hospital that we would keep them at home Thursday night, but plan on them staying with my parents starting Friday night. Well, sure enough, not more than ten minutes after we put the boys to bed (around 8:00), I started having contractions. However, I’d been having Braxton-Hicks pretty consistently for the weeks leading up to (and past) my due date, and the contractions weren’t painful in the least, so I didn’t say anything right away because I wasn’t convinced I was actually in labor. Around 10:00, I finally told Darrell that I was pretty sure I’d been having contractions, but I’d only had six or seven in those two hours and was having no issue walking/talking through them, so I didn’t think it was anything major. We considered calling my parents to give them a heads up, but decided it wasn’t worth putting them on alert for what very likely could be a false alarm. We did, however, decide to pack all our stuff in the van, because we figured if we didn’t end up going in that night we’d likely be going in the next day, or Saturday at the latest. Then, around 10:30, we headed to bed, figuring that we might as well get whatever sleep we could (ironically, Darrell’s last words to me were “I don’t know how you expect me to sleep when you just told me that you *might* be in labor” and I reassured him that if I feel asleep then he should also sleep without having anything to worry about).
A little before 11:45 I woke up feeling like I had to go to the bathroom, which at that point in my pregnancy was nothing unusual. However, the pain and discomfort I was having while trying to go was definitely new. I’ll admit that I wasn’t fully awake and aware of what was going on (which Darrell still thinks is just ludicrous, given how far overdue I was), and I probably sat in the bathroom for at least five minutes trying to go and figure out why it was so painful. In fact, when I first called to Darrell telling him to call my folks to come over to the house, I still wasn’t associating the pain as being labor pains, but it was bad enough I wanted to go in to the hospital anyway (in my defense, the pain was pretty much entirely in my bottom area, not in my abdominal area, which is why I initially didn’t think they were contractions). Darrell was a little groggy and slow-moving at first, but by this point I was out of the bathroom and it took just one look at me for him to realize how serious I was. So at 11:55, he made the (first) call to my parents (who thankfully answered right away).
After that, things get a little foggy for me. I know I made Darrell help me change out of my nightgown and into athletic shorts and a tank top (I was concerned about being immodest in my slightly too short nightgown) and I know we made very slow progress out to and into the car, despite Darrell’s best efforts to make me move quickly, especially in between the contractions (although candidly, we weren't exactly dealing with a lot of "in between" time). At some point Darrell called my parents again to make sure someone was on their way, because he was going to go get a neighbor if they weren't, but my dad assured us that my mom was coming. So Darrell called her (while we were sitting in the car in the street), found out she was only five blocks from the house, and promptly left, knowing she'd be at the house soon (and the boys were sleeping, so it made no difference to them). To put the next part of the story into perspective, that phone call happened at 12:10, and (spoiler!) Connor was born at 12:25.
The drive to the hospital was ridiculously uncomfortable for me (probably because I was basically sitting on Connor's head), but thankfully pretty short (we only live 3.5 miles from the hospital, and because of the time of night we had the right of way on pretty much all the traffic signals so we didn't have to wait for other cars. And Darrell was speeding, of course). We pulled up to the ER entrance of the hospital and Darrell immediately ran in to get me a wheelchair. The gal at the front desk tried to get our information to get us registered, but I'm pretty sure the only thing Darrell said to her was "my wife is in labor" before he ran back outside. A security guard (casually) came out to the car to help Darrell, and when I had a contraction while getting out of the car I grabbed on to his arm. At that point I think he realized the urgency of the situation (apparently his eyes got huge), and when we got back inside the receptionist tried again to get our information, but I had another contraction and
The next few minutes are a blur. I know my water broke as I was getting out of the wheelchair, and Darrell and the nurse were helping me into the bed while simultaneously getting my shorts off so I would be ready to deliver. A nurse did check me to see what my progress was, and she declared that my cervix was "gone" (aka completely dilated and fully effaced). At 12:22, they finally got us registered in the system because Darrell was stationary long enough to answer their questions regarding my name and other vitals (although we didn't get the "consent to treat" paperwork signed until after Connor was born. Whoops). I remember the on-call OB commanding me to make eye contact with her while she gave me instructions about when and how to push, and I know I was grateful that I was no longer sitting and that someone was actually telling me what to do and giving me the okay to push (and for the record, I didn't once ask for an epidural or anything. I was pretty aware before we even got to the hospital that I was past that point. I was just so glad to be delivering at the hospital that I didn't really care about the pain). At some point one of the nurses called my OB, and he was given the message that his patient was here and she was crowning (shockingly, he didn't make it in time for the delivery, although he was there pretty shortly after the birth, which was impressive). And then, a mere three or four contractions after we made it into the birthing room, Connor was born.
It was wild, it was crazy, and it was certainly chaotic, but that's our story and I kind of love it. Just like I love this sweet little face...
And my sweet little family
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