Sheesh, they put me on a pink blanket. Yet another side effect of being second-born. At least I'm not in girl clothes...
For anyone who is interested, here is how the labor went down...
I awoke this past Thursday morning at 5:25 AM to find that I was having contractions roughly every 10 minutes. I stayed in bed until around 6:30 (by then I was convinced that maybe I was actually in real labor) and I got up and got dressed. Leia woke up 20 minutes later, so I got her ready for school between contractions.
"Mommy, why aren't you dressing me? Why are you just standing there?"
"You'll have to wait a minute, sweet pea, Mommy's having a contraction."
"Oh."
At 7:30 I got three in a row that were nearing 5 minutes apart. I woke Jeff up and called Jeff's parents and asked them to come get Leia (she doesn't go to school until 9, and I wasn't taking chances.) Then they slowed down to 10 minutes again and stayed there until 9:30.
At 10:00 I got into the bathtub (tubs are great for dealing with contractions). Jeff wanted to get going but I wanted to stay in the tub. I got out at 11:00 with contractions coming every 4-5 minutes, and we headed for the hospital.
Riding over in the car was less than fun for me. The contractions were way more intense than I remembered them being with Leia. I got myself through by making sort of a low humming/moaning noise (must've sounded bizzare but I could not have cared less) and dreaming of drugs.
When we got there they made me wait downstairs for 10 minutes. I continued moaning through my contractions. Then some woman says, "Come sit down in my office and I'll admit you." I'm thinking, "Are you KIDDING me lady????" but I take my intermittently moaning self into the office. She takes FOREVER to get me admitted (what is she, blind?) while I sort of hold on to her desk for dear life. She slaps a bracelet on me that says 12:01 AM. She tries to explain the admitting packet to me. I want to murder her. Jeff steps in and I go off with the person who showed up to take my upstairs. I refuse a wheelchair, because even though by now contractions are showing up every 2 minutes or so I know I am better off getting there on my own. I hobble down the hall, pausing to squat when contractions hit. There are people waiting for the elevator, who blessedly let us through.
Once we are upstairs, I am hit with yet another contraction and have to stop in the hallway. When it subsides I tell the aide we need to make a break for it, and I waddle as fast as I can to the L&D unit. I walk into my room at 12:12 PM. The nurse takes one look at me and says "Oh my, you mean business. Let's get a gown on you. Can you give me a urine sample?" I tell her I will do my best.
Once inside the bathroom I sit down to attempt a urine sample and my water breaks. (How convenient...no mess.) I yell out to the nurse that my water broke. She comes in to help me into the gown. Then I get hit with the worst contraction ever - 10 times worse than any of Leia's - and I say, "Holy..."
The nurse says, "Go ahead. Let it out."
I proceed to spew every expletive I ever heard. Jeff said it sounded like I had an attack of Tourette's. Then I hobble out of the bathroom and inform Jeff that I am absolutely not making him any more babies, ever.
Then another hits. Jeff steps toward me. I hiss, "Get out" and wave him away. (Poor Jeff.) He moves out of my line of sight and says, "I am here if you need me." Meanwhile the nurse is begging me to get into the bed so she can check me. I tell her I can't, but somehow do so anyway.
She takes one look at me and shouts, "Fully dilated and effaced!" I inform her that I am sorry but I have to push RIGHT NOW. Jeff peeks in and sees the baby crowning. The nurse yells for an obstetrician. Mild chaos erupts as my doctor is not on the floor. They pluck a random OB who was on her way to surgery and she catches my baby about 2 minutes later. Jeff says I held off on pushing him out until they told me too, but I have no recollection of this.
By now it was 12:20, and little Caleb has made his debut. 7 lbs 13 oz, 21 inches long.
I have to say, as great as it is to get delivery over so quickly, it is also highly disorienting. It took me a while to take in that yes, I had him, it was done, and I'm not going to wake up in a few hours still pregnant.
So that is my tale, floating around in cyberspace for posterity. The little guy is sleeping now and I am tired of typing. I am going to take a nap!
