So as most of you know, the week before Wesley was born, I was put on bed rest. My sister came down towards the end of the week to cook me some food, do some laundry, and generally keep me company (and had the difficult task of keeping me off of my feet). Saturday, March 3, she headed back to Seattle with Matt, who had a JourneyQuest meeting. He'd be back in a few hours. As they left, they barked at me to stay off my feet and get some sleep.
I was looking forward to having some time to myself, actually. I was going to watch some stuff on Netflix/Hulu, catch-up on my thank-you notes, take a nap, etc. But first, I needed to shower.
I bathe. I get out. I look at my belly in the mirror and grin. I look down, and say "I can't wait to meet you."
Famous last words.
As if out of a movie, liquid comes gushing out of me. RIGHT AFTER I GOT OUT OF THE SHOWER. Ahem. But I'll just skip the gruesome parts, and say that I called Matt, told him to come home NOW, and then called my midwife. She wasn't concerned, but thought we should go to the hospital just to be on the safe side. She was sure it wasn't amniotic fluid because I was only 35 weeks pregnant.
Matt comes home. We pack a small bag, as I'm convinced I'm NOT in labor because I feel fine. No contractions, no discomfort. And we head to the hospital. We checked in around 11:30am. We get up to the Labor and Delivery part of the hosptial and there are 2 pregnant women ahead of me, clearly in labor. Squeezing their faces in pain, grimacing, actually. And I whisper to Matt, "That's not me. I'm not in pain. I'm fine."
Again, famous last words.
We check into a room, I get into the *not so glamarous* hospital gown, and wait. The nurse says that they are going to check and make sure that the fluid isn''t amniotic, and if it is, then they'll have me stay in the hospital for a few weeks to let the baby "cook" a bit longer and get me on anti-biotics. Ooo, sounds fun. Not. And of course, in the back of my mind, I think, "Oh GREAT. A giant hospital bill. Just what we need." Of course, I'm strapped onto monitors, one to hear the baby's heartbeat, and one to see if I'm having contractions. Which, for the moment, I'm not.
Now this is where I start to lose my sense of time. Let's just say that I start feeling some discomfort. And it's happening again and again. And before I know it, I'm in labor. I'm not able to labor in water, because they're worried about my risk for infection. Matt has to ask if I can labor out of bed because I'm having back labor (which thank GOD, they let me out of bed - back labor SUCKS). I puke, I cry, and Matt is right there by my side. The midwife comes in, says that based on my sudden contractions, we're having this baby today, and they're going to put me on an epidural (probably because of my high blood pressure but I honestly can't remember) when I hit a certain number, and I'm like "Great. Sign me up."
So they check me around 3, I think, and say I probably have another few hours before the epidural can be administered. But they do give me some anti-nausea medication so that I'm not horking all the time.
And with that, I need to go get some food before our little tree frog wakes up and makes his demands known. This little boy is such a wonderful treasure. I can't remember my life before he was born. I'm relishing every moment.