That One Story...
Once upon a time I was sitting in my living room...well actually lets go back a little farther...
On Sunday Jan. 24 I was asked to give a talk in church...this is important because here in Minnesota there's a curse...that if you're pregnant and give a talk on Sunday sometime during the next week you'll go into labor...I thought I was immune since 1. I was only 32 weeks along and 2. I hadn't heard of this supposed curse. I gave a pretty good talk if I do say so myself, and let me add giving a talk when you're pregnant is kind of awful, I mean being nervous on top of being uncomfortable is not that awesome.
But Sunday came and went without excitement. Monday it snowed. The day was boring and I was home all alone with nothing to do so I decided to shovel the 1/2 inch of snow on the driveway. Mostly I wanted to do it so Greg would be so proud of me...he thinks I'm lazy and I figured this would prove him wrong...I mean a 7 1/2 month pregnant woman out shoveling snow is pretty impressive, even if its only like half an inch. So I shoveled and then I went back inside. Late that night...like 2 in the morning my back started cramping up and I figured I'd done something funny to it while shoveling. Pulled a muscle or strained something...nothing exciting. I mean I had felt back contractions before and thought this pain was completely different. When I couldn't get comfortable by 5:30 I decided just to go downstairs and watch TV...seriously considered buying a NuWave oven and learned all about some Sphinx in Egypt. Greg got up and checked on me and then went in to work aroud 6:45.
So throughout the day on Tuesday I just sat around...talked to my Mom on the phone, watched TV, cleaned my room, and on the whole, didn't do a whole heck of a lot. My back was still bothering me every now and then so I took some Tylenol and felt pretty darn good. Around 8:00pm ish...Greg still wasn't home....it's busy season for Accountants...I decided to get some dinner (granola bars, yogurt, and hot chocolate). Now, maybe some of you pregnant or formerly pregnant women can relate to multi-tasking when you get up, and only get up when you have a variety of tasks to complete. This you do in a vain effort to only get up an average of 4 times a day.
So around 8pm I had a list of 4 things to complete.
1. Get phone charger because cell phone was dead.
2. Get a couple of granola bars.
3. Get a blanket.
4. Go to the bathroom.
So when I stood up to begin my list and felt a little ummm...insert PC/polite way of saying drippage...I thought to myself, "Ah crap, I should have gone to the bathroom sooner."
So I went to the bathroom...and found I was still...ummmm...leaking...NOT GOOD. At that point my heart stopped and I started mumbling things like "it's going to be ok, its going to be ok."
I grabbed my cell phone and tottered upstairs to plug in my phone. I called my Dr. (figuring I shouldn't call Greg unless I knew for sure what was happening...I mean how retarded would it be if I called him and made him rush home because I didn't pee soon enough). The Dr. told me to go to the hospital to be assessed...I figured that was a good thing and meant that it was probably just something minor and everything would be ok. So I call Greg...no answer...but I leave a message and say, "Greg I'm not sure whats going on but my water might have broken, I have to go to the hospital, you need to go to the Maternal Assessment Unit right away."Then my mom called...wanting me to check out some presentation my sister had created about my nephew Gabe. After about 4 min of her telling me all about the story my sister had written, I say "So I don't know what's happening but my water might have broken. I mean I'm sure its fine but I'm going to the hospital just in case." (You see I was still trying to convince myself that I was totally wrong and I had just peed myself...cause you know given the two choices peeing myself was actually the BETTER alternative which isn't the case most of the time).
My mother convinces me that it is indeed my water that has broken and that the baby is in fact coming...so I of course start to freak out. I mean we ARE NOT ready for our little girl yet. We were picking out bedding and paint the next day and getting the crib and furniture on Saturday.I figured 8 weeks would be plenty of time for nursery items...then little girl had to go and come early. My mom does her best to calm me from a billion miles away in tropical Georgialand and I tell her I have to call somebody to come and get me...cause remember how I'm home...ALONE. So she promptly hangs up.
I call over to my in-laws house and my Father-in-Law Tom answers the phone in a rather chipper voice. I however was not to be swayed by his cheery mentality. I immediately ask if his wife was home. No luck, she's out babysitting. "Well," I ask, "is she going to be home soon?" He responds that he doesn't really know what time she's getting back, but wants to know if he can help me. And at that point I really didn't know what to say. I mean I obviously needed somebody to give me a ride to the hospital...but...and no offense to the Father-in-Laws of the world...but I just don't think thats on the Father-in-Law resume. So I say, "Well, my water might have broken so I just need a ride to the hospital to get checked out."
silence
"Oh well I can do that!" (This was said a little loudly). "Ok great," I say, and thank him.
Then I go ahead and call my Mother-in-Law.
I tell her whats going on and she makes the correct assumption that I would prefer her to give me a ride and immediately hangs up to call Tom and let him know of the plan changes.
Meanwhile back at home, I try calling Greg again. This time he answers and says he got my message and he's on his way to the hospital and asks how I'm doing...takes all the strength in the world not to start bawling at that moment..so I say "I'm fine," and tell him his mother is picking me up and we'll meet him there.
Then I start running around my room...pretty much in circles...trying to think of things to pack just in case this was really IT (see...still thinking this might all be a HUGE mistake). I pack clothes for me and some clothes for Greg and half the toiletry items I need...and when I say half I mean half, like I packed my toothbrush but no toothpaste, and I pack my deodrant but forgot Greg's...stuff like that. And you have to know me but I am obsessive compulsive about packing so after everything was said and done, finding out I had done this DROVE ME CRAZY.
My mother-in-law Faye arrives to find me running all over the place (leaving a nice cute little trail in my wake in the process...too much information???). She calmly tells me to get in the car...I ignore her the first 3 times and try to finish packing before she finally says "Lindsey, GET in the Car."
You see at this point I still FELT fine...no pains, no contractions, no nothing, except for that pesky back pain that I got from "shoveling." It wasn't until we were halfway to the hospital that I started to feel cranky and all of a sudden my stomach hurt.
Faye took me to the Emergency Room entrance and a nice man wheeled me up to the maternal assessment unit in an old fashioned wheelchair that looked like it belonged to a 1920's mental hospital. Greg was already there and I was SO glad to see him. He was so calm.
We got to the assessment unit around 9:30 pm and that's when the McCarthyesque interrogation began. Let me tell you, I have never answered SO many questions in my entire life than that night. And frankly it is the WORST time to be asking anybody questions. I understand they need to know medical information like are you allergic to air and things of that nature, but really do you need to ask me "How do you handle pain?" (to which I responded...I DON'T TALK) My stomach hurt and my back hurt and people would NOT STOP talking to me. At some point the nurse came in and told me I was already a "5"...which meant there was no turning back, and I was really having the baby...like right then.
You know how they tell you..."you can't describe labor pain"...well...it's TRUE, but I'll try. It's kind of like being slowly killed by excruciating pain...only to be resurrected...only to be slowly murdered again. You live pain to pain. Moment to moment. My only thought was...you're going to be ok...women do this all the time...you're going to be ok. Then the nurse asked me what my pain level was...I thought about it for a minute and said "7"...why did I say "7?" Because a "10" would be like burning alive while drowning in my mind...and I didn't feel that badly yet. Then the nurse asked "So how high do you want to go before you try pain meds?" That's when I said "Uh not much higher thank you." So they ordered an epidural. I'm pretty sure the nurse kept asking me questions...but I ignored her.
Greg, however, was great! He didn't talk to me at ALL and if he did it was only to ask if I was doing ok. He would wink or smile or softly pull my hair out of my face and pat or hold my hand. He was PERFECT. Bonus points to him for actually listening to my answers.
After I was fully "assessed" they wheeled me to what I call the intermission room. Because you know how during intermission you go and get drinks and popcorn or whatever and then the really cool stuff happens...welllll...I didn't get drinks or popcorn...I got an epidural. Which is the most awesome invention in the history of the world...forget that printing press thing or that stupid wheel. And ladies let me just say, if you're thinking about doing that whole natural thing...Don't be a hero. If you can't think about anything but the pain you won't be able to focus enough on the pushing, and if you can't focus on the pushing you'll be pushing for a whole heck of a lot longer. If you're handling the pain ok and can focus on other things then I think thats amazing and more power to you for being such a trooper and good luck with the natural stuff, but Shoot I wasn't expecting to have a baby that night...I just wanted a granola bar and a bathroom break, and at the point when I realized this WAS happening I seriously pondered whether or not I could have a C-section. I mean when you can prepare yourself for labor its one thing...when it comes out of nowhere I think its another. And at that moment I was truly grateful for the drugs. The nurse told me I'd be in the intermission room until I was a "10", so I figured I had a while....wrong. After getting the epidural they checked me and I was a "9"..time check: approximately 12:00 AM ...so off we went.
After receiving the marvelous medicine they wheeled me into the super sterile and white and bright delivery room. And I pushed for 24 minutes and then there she was. Cone head and all. I couldn't believe it, still can't believe it really. It all happened SO fast. But she's here and she's beautiful and we love her.
She was 4lbs 10 oz. and 17 1/2 inches long. She's never needed oxegen and right now she's just progressing marvelously.
Can't complain about the seats...even if the people looked like munchkins...it was FREE!
The stadium sign. Now bow in reverence... 
...now make a fist and slowly ease it up underneath your chin...
And now in black and white...because its so cute...