Continued from here...
March 31. A normal Tuesday. Went to work. Walked up the 3 flights of stairs, went to meetings (still under the cloud of the Terrible). Went to the doctor. She asked if Addie might hold off until after the weekend, as she was going out of town. Sure thing, I said. We made an appointment for the following week. I trudged back to the office, to meet the FYC, around the house doing menial tasks. We ordered pizza and I ate a huge slab of chocolate cake with peanut butter icing and felt sorry for myself.
At around 10:30 my stomach started to hurt. Stupid Papa John's! Stupid cake! I thought. But then, the feeling changed from indigestion to something...else. Something squeeze-y. And particular. Contractions! I shouted down to the FYC: CONTRACTIONS! We looked at our birthing class book and confirmed that I was indeed having contractions. But they were far apart, and I was not moaning or breathing all raggedy like our teacher said I would when it was time to head to hospital. So he said, let's try to go to bed. So I did. Or, I tried.
Hey, wake up. I'm 5-1-1-ing. I shook the FYC's shoulder, trying to wake him up. I called the hospital and they know we might come in. I had been wandering around the house, timing my contractions, for, well, forever, or about 4 hours. It was 2:00 am and we were going to have our baby.
Maybe. The FYC was still convinced they were going to send us home after an hour. Still, we left Floyd the Greyhound and the kitties with loads of food and kisses and headed out for the most suspenseful 20 minute drive of our lives. There was no speeding - no need, because all the traffic lights were flashing yellow and there was no one else on the road. It was white-knuckle nonetheless.
Once at the hospital, the expected stuff happened. I got the ugly gown, all examined and blood pressured and etc. They put this fancy belt on my huge belly to check Addie's heart rate. All was well, and we WERE having the baby, for real. My contractions were getting fierce, and, exhausted from being up since 7 am the previous day, we didn't do much of the lovely walking and talking and yoga poses and etc -- the stuff I presumed I would want to do. I had planned to be a serene, lavender-scented birthing goddess. Instead, I was starving, sweating, exhausted, and cold. And we still had many. Many. Hours to go.
To be continued...