Thursday night went just as every other night that week had. Contractions through the night and then nothing by morning. So we went through our usual Friday morning flurry of getting kids ready, getting the trash to the street, and Tim & I going separate ways with separate kids. We met back together at home, and decided to go for a walk to see if we could make something happen. We walked up to a neighborhood bakery/cafe for a little morning treat. Tim got a very large cinnamon roll, and I ended up with a smoothie.
That should have been my first indication that something was happening. I never pass up the opportunity for a leisurely cup of coffee, but after debating very long and hard, I just wasn't feeling the coffee that morning. So we sat and enjoyed our treats, and then eventually decided to head home.
We were about halfway home when it happened. I felt a rather large trickle run down my legs. I doubled over, in an attempt to stop it. Without thinking, I told Tim, "Either my water just broke, or I'm peeing myself!" Time: approximately 11:15am.
He, of course, doubled over in laughter, telling me that was the funniest thing I had ever said. At the time, I forbid him from repeating the story. Ever. Every other time my water has broken, I have been in the throws of labor and very in tune to what was happening. But this time was so confusing because other than the fluid running down my leg, there was nothing happening. Nothing.
We headed home, and again split ways to pick up different kids from different schools. By the time we had finished lunch, the contractions had resumed. This was the first time I had really felt much during the day. But I had been faked out so many times already that I was still texting some of our very closest friends, making plans for them to head our way for dinner that night. And at this point, I wasn't feeling like there was much I wanted to eat for lunch. I think I had an apple.
I did put Tim on kid duty for the afternoon so I could lay down and get some sleep. I retreated to the couch for a nap. Unlike my night time episodes, I was having occasional contractions, but I was able to sleep between them. I did my best, but then once kids started rousing from their naps, I wasn't getting much sleep. About 4:00, I started telling Tim we should consider getting in touch with our friends who would be watching our kids while we were in the hospital. That alerted him enough that he was ready to take the kids right away. I told him we weren't that desperate yet, but that we should at least give our friends a heads up that it might not be long.
By 5:00, our friend was on the way to pick up our kids. Which turned into a major blessing, because it sure was a hassle this time to figure out transportation for our kids plus our friend's kids. And I knew it must be time, because by this time, I was having somewhat of a hard time dealing with contractions and kids. Sophia asked at one point, "Mom, what are you doing?" I had no good answer for a 6 year old, nor did I feel the creativity to come up with one.
I helped load the kids in the car, said my good-byes, and then decided maybe it was time to start paying more attention, so I finally started timing contractions. I know that sometimes a good hot bath can speed up the ordeal, so I hopped in the tub with my phone/stopwatch nearby. Only about every 5-6 minutes at that point, and not all of them very intense. The bath wasn't doing it for me, so once again, I suggested that we should head out for a walk. Time: shortly after 6pm.
There is a nice little path around a large pond right near our house, so we headed in that direction. Sure enough, that's what it took. As we started, I'd have a contraction every few minutes or so. I'd lean over, hands on my knees, and do my very best to breathe through it. At one point, a young-ish (I never got a good look for a more accurate guess) skater asked us if we needed any help. He was ready to call whoever he needed. Tim made very pathetic jokes that it was just some bad Mexican food I had eaten. It was at this point that I knew we were getting somewhere because I found no humor in the situation whatsoever, and was less than thrilled with his joke.
We made it maybe a third of the way around the pond before I decided it was time to head home. Tim had been saying for the last hour that we should go to the hospital, but I protested. There is nothing worse than being stuck in a hospital bed in the thick of labor. At this point, though, I knew we were getting closer. We made our way very slowly home. We got to the busier street right before our house, and made a break for it when the coast was clear because by now, the contractions were frequent enough that there was the possibility that I might not make it across the street without having one.
Once we got home, I made a quick trip to the bathroom, and then knew that it was time to make our way to the hospital. By the time we got to the car, the shakes had started. I think I like that part less than the actual contractions. It's such a feeling of being out of control. Your body just shakes and shakes, and you want to control it, but you are anything but in control at this point. We quickly loaded into the car, and started out for the hospital. Time: 7:02pm.
The trip to the hospital was not as bad as the last time. I was very aware of all that was happening, and very aware of the feeling that I couldn't handle much more. But I was afraid there was so much more to endure. The contractions were maybe a couple of minutes apart, but they were not on top of each other, so I thought I had a ways to go yet. By the time we got to the hospital, I didn't know how I was going to make it from the car inside.
But I did. And we became quite the entourage making our way up to the labor and delivery floor. They kept pushing for a wheelchair, but I wasn't having it. I would much rather walk than sit. We had a nurse escort with us, but she wasn't a labor and delivery nurse, so she didn't know quite what to do with me. She kept trying to touch me, but I would very emphatically remind her, "DON'T TOUCH!" I don't know exactly what it is, but touching makes me crazy. I think it's because I am not in control when someone else reaches out to touch me. (Now I should clarify that's not on a normal day, just at the final stages of labor!) As we slowly proceeded down the hall, we passed an actual off-duty L & D nurse who decided maybe she would just join our little party. I was very grateful she did, because she fended off the other nurse escort who didn't know what to do with me. There was conversation the whole way, and in spite of being in the heat of the moment, I was not only cognizant, but participating in all of it.
"We don't want you to give birth in the elevator."
"I don't care where it happens, I just want this baby out."
"You're a really great coach for this."
"He's a really great dad. That's how/why we're having 4 of them."
"This is my kind of mom, come on in and drop that baby right out."
We went immediately into our room, and by this point, I was begging/screaming/threatening for the epidural. Get that anesthesiologist in here: STAT! Time: 7:40ish, but I'm totally guessing at this point. It couldn't have been before 7:30, but with parking, checking in, and making our way to the room, I'm guessing about 7:40.
Our nurse came in, strapped me to the bed with the fetal monitors (the part that makes me nothing short of CRAZY), opened up the hep lock for an IV, and attempted (unsuccessfully) to draw blood. She finally got to the part where she checked me. 6 1/2 centimeters. That was it? Seriously? Get the drugs in here NOW.
She left the room. I almost literally ripped the monitors off my stomach, rolled onto my hands and knees and felt the overwhelming need to push. IT WAS TIME!!! Screw the anesthesiologist. Tim, all in a very strategic attempt to encourage me in the way I needed most, was saying, "It won't be long now. We're going to get to meet Charlotte any minute!!!" First time we had called her by name.
The doctor and nurses made a quick appearance, there were a handful of pushes, and there she was!
Charlotte Ruth Nielson
11.04.2011, 8:11pm
7 pounds, 5 ounces
20 inches long
Beautiful. With a full head of DARK hair.
I ended up loosing quite a bit of blood, and we had to call the doctor back in and I got quite a few more meds, and it made for a fairly scary couple of hours afterwards, but it ended up being short lived, and by the next morning, all was well.
And we were in LOVE!!!
