A funny thing happened on April 5th. I woke up, pregnant, and had a good day. Some work, some play, some rest. I was having a baby in a few weeks (on May 1st, or so I thought in my über-planning mind), so I was settling into that stretch of pregnancy where you are uncomfortably large.
At night I went to bed.
A few hours later, I woke up to find that my water had broken. Since up until that point I didn’t know what it meant to have broken my water, I googled it. I still wasn’t sure, but it was possible. Then I called my friend who happens to be a doctor. She hemmed and hawed. Maybe it’s broken. Maybe it’s not. Then I called the midwife. She said more of the same. Then I called my parents.
By the end of all those conversations nothing much had changed, so I spent another hour randomly googling my various physical sensations.
A pain started that felt like a tiny little cramp. I noted it, but didn’t think about it further. A bit later, I noticed the cramp again, ever so slightly. By the third time I thought, could this be a contraction? Unlike many other women I had never had any false ones, so I didn’t have a clue.
We started timing it, just to be safe.
Seven minutes apart, then six.
Throughout it all, I kept saying the same thing to my husband, “Do you think I’m really in labor?”
And then, as it became clearer, “I can’t believe I really might be in labor.”
I remembered that they told me to eat. All my friends who’d gone through labor had said the same thing: “EAT BEFORE YOU GO TO THE HOSPITAL.” I had a plan in my head. I would go to a drive-thru (fast food! indulgence!) on the way to the hospital. But I was hungry NOW. So I threw that out the window.
I ate a chicken quesadilla. Lots of salsa.
“Are you sure you don’t want something more bland?” My husband asked.
(When it all came up later, I told him he was right. Or at least, I meant to.)
The contractions kept coming, and it had now been a few hours. The midwife told us to come into the hospital. (A different one than the one we had planned — one better for wee tiny ones who want out soon.)
We packed a bag and started driving.
A lot of things happened over the next few hours. The car broke down, we had to take a taxi to the hospital, the labor was harder than I ever imagined it would be, etc. etc. And then it was done.
And at the end of it all, there was a sweet babe. A sweet babe I’d longed for years for. A tiny thing that wasn’t supposed to have come for another 3.5 weeks.
And the whole time, I kept saying the same thing, “I can’t believe this really happened.”
But it did.
And then you have a baby.More On