I am a month postpartum. The beautiful family has come and gone and I am feeling small bouts of accomplishment. But I bet you want the details.
Induction was set for April 14, but clearly this little girl decided she couldn't wait that long to start the party.
April 4th, 6:30 a.m., my alarm goes off. I get up like any other day and eat my bowl of cereal. My hips are sore and feel like they have spread in the night and I seem to be experiencing a strange sensation in my lower pelvis- I think it might be contractions. Since there isn't much Capt'n Crunch left, and because I know I can't eat once I get to the hospital, I polish off the last bit of cereal.
I start getting ready like any other self-respecting woman, my makeup was fully intact, but my clothes were poorly matched, as the contractions were stronger by that point. After a call to my sister, the emergency line to my OB's office and a few text messages to co-workers I began to realize I was REALLY in labor. After I told the OB emergency line "My contractions are 2-3 minutes apart and are pretty intense," they said, "you need to go to labor and delivery, now."
It's not difficult to imagine the look of horror on Michael's face as he answers my FaceTime call (especially since I've never called unannounced). I hold a fake smile between contractions and tell him that I'm headed to labor and delivery and I'll keep them posted "if I'm really in labor." The only thing that he could mutter at the time was, "the soonest we can get there is tomorrow at 10 a.m." As I feel another contraction coming on, I tell him to do what he can with a big, fat, wincing smile.
My husband makes his call into work to make arrangements because his wife is pregnant and in labor (both of which were shocking news to unknowing co-workers...). We load up our son and head to day care, then to drop off my FMLA paperwork (thankfully I had picked it up the afternoon before!). Then, on to the hospital we go. In between contractions, I mention we should take bets on what I'm dilated to... but that was quickly forgotten by the next contraction. We get to the hospital and I snap at a sweet little volunteer lady and tell the maternity care coordinator that I will sign anything that they need me to and the answer to all of their questions is, "Yes."
Three or four contractions after arriving a little after 9 a.m., triage is attempting to get me checked in, despite my foul attitude. Despite several questions about an epidural, I was not able to get one. I was checked and dilated to an 8. Five minutes later, my water broke. Twenty minutes later, I delivered a beautiful baby girl. A day later her daddies got to meet the little princess.