The day started at 4am, which is waaay too early for anything to start if you ask me. I woke up feeling slightly "wet". Disgusting as that may be (TMI anyone?), at 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant, I was only slightly surprised. I thought it best to haul ass to the bathroom, though, before any further accident occurred. When I stood up to wipe myself off, the dam burst. The toilet paper in my hand looked unequal to the job. So, not knowing what else to do I grabbed a towel from the wall and put it down on the floor and just stood there.
The answer to that last question was pack a travel bag for the Boy and assemble my hospital bag. I tried to do as much as I could before waking Mr Earth. No sense in him losing sleep too. I was WIDE AWAKE though. Why do they suggest going back to bed at this point? No deal for me. Finally, though, I had to wake the man and let him know what was happening. It took a while for him to register it because we simply were not expecting this so early.
I thought that I was supposed to go in to the hospital right away. I was sure the doctor had said to do this because of the whole VBAC situation. But since it was so early and way too inconvenient to wake the Boy, we called the hospital instead. They said to wait until the contractions were closer together.
So, the day went on as usual, except that I decided to NOT to go for a run that morning. It seemed unwise. We did go grocery shopping, though, and then sort of hung out at home. I started using low-toning for the contractions which were about 15 minutes apart. We called all three sets of parents to let them know what was happening, and to arrange for someone to watch the Boy as my parents were in New Jersey. Mr Earth's stepmother was on call and ready to come by.
The low-toning got a little boring for me (short attention span), so I started singing with each contraction instead. For some reason, the only song I could think of was "Do You Hear The People Sing" from Les Misérables. Not the most appropriate lyrics, but very inspirational. It was the only song with low notes that came to mind anyways, so I was stuck with it.
Finally, around 3pm in the afternoon, I had had enough and wanted to go for a walk. The Boy was being rather obstinate but into the stroller he went despite complaints. We walked down to the local Second Cup and I had a mulled apple cider. I wondered if people could tell I was in (early) labour. We started walking again - I wanted to return a book to the library - but I decided that we should go home as the contractions were getting worse. Of course, the Boy wanted to walk home so it took a loooong time.
We finally got home around 5pm and decided we really should call Mr Earth's stepmother as it would take her 45 minutes to get to our house and the contractions were now steadily 5 minutes apart. And active labour had begun. I spent much of the next hour on my hands and knees moaning in pain. It frightened the Boy, who kept shushing me, but I really couldn't help myself.
Mr Earth's stepmother finally got there at around 10 minutes to 6pm and we rushed to the car. I have never hated being in car so much. I felt confined in a uncomfortable seat, and each contraction was hellish. I hated every bump. I cursed the Bloor Street traffic. I hit the wall of the car. I was VERY mature.
Mr Earth dropped me off at admitting so he could go park the car. I waited interminable for the two receptionists to stop having their debate about what to eat for dinner. Finally, the girl deigned to help me. I left the papers on her desk and got down on my hands and knees again, moaning. Yeah, this is not embarrassing at all. Strangely, she asked no questions. I was sort of expecting an "Are you all right?" or "Can I get you a wheelchair", or "Should I call a nurse?" Nothing. Once she admitted us she pointed us in the direction of the elevators. I'm pretty sure I gave her the blackest look of death I had. Don't piss off the woman in labour..
In the elevator, I got down on my hands and knees again with contractions. I had to crawl out of the doors. Some guy gave me a strange look. He pissed me off too. At triage, they put me in a room and did an exam to see how far along I was. The woman was really abrupt and rather unkindly shoved her hand up the wazoo in the middle of a contraction. She REALLY pissed me off. I was at 5 centimetres.
I was taken (walked? I can't remember) to the labour room. I had high hopes of waiting till 6 centimetres before even considering an epidural, but the pain was too much. I really thought I had a better tolerance for pain. I was doing my best not to scream through contractions, which were coming one on top of the other. I was VERY loud. The hospital phrased it "patient was in distress". They couldn't get the IV to stop bleeding or stay stuck to my hand. They apparently gave me an epidural, but after my constant polite questions of "When is that damn epidural supposed to work??" they finally realized that it hadn't "taken". WTF???
So, at around 8:30 and 8 or 9 centimetres dilated, they gave me a spinal. After that, I felt FINE. Contractions were happening nonstop but I couldn't feel them. They gave me about half an hour before they wanted me to start pushing. They said I might feel the urge to push, but I didn't believe them because I felt FIIIINE. I did feel the urge, though.
The pushing (with drugs) was actually not bad. Rather uncomfortable, but not nearly as awful as I thought. It was all going so fast. I felt a rush of blood (ruined a perfectly good pair of sport socks in the process), and they pulled out the baby. As they brought him up to my chest, I saw the goods and knew it was a boy, and no one had to make the "It's a Boy!" announcement I was so looking forward to.
I got to hold him for a spell. He was so small it was like holding on to air. I barely felt the weight of him. I was in shock that it was November 3rd and I was holding my baby already. The family complete. The trio turned quartet. Life is good.
Now, if only we could find time to sleep.
A shout out to the Peeps from the little guy. Yo, yo, yo!