|before church - glad I got this picture!|
Last Sunday I went to church - four days past baby's ETA - with nothing more than sporadic uncomfortable contractions. By 6:00 in the evening they were coming faster, stronger and finally! more painful. Slice and I took our little family up to my parents' for a couple hours, then came back and went to bed. I put my headphones on, timing and trying to get a little sleep.
I couldn't sleep, so like last time I labored in the living room, relaxing as well as I could, for almost two hours. We called my mom just before midnight. By the time she got to our house, my contractions were right around five minutes apart. Again, on the seven-block drive to the hospital, I wondered if we had waited long enough. I was also slightly worried about a posterior baby because of the intense pain in my back. (I should know by now that MY LABOR IS IN MY BACK.)
We checked in, walked back to Labor & Delivery, and the nurse at the desk asked what I was there for. (Kind of a dumb question?) I said "to have a baby," and she looked at me like, "you don't know what you're talking about." Maybe she had a bad night. I dunno.
I got in the room, undressed and hooked up to the monitors, and when the nurse (different one) checked me she said, "You're at a seven!"
Moment of truth!
They called the doctor, he came and broke my water, and I labored some more. Back labor is excruciating I tell you. Slice was digging the heels of his hands into my lower back with each contraction and it was never hard enough. I did some standing, some lying down, some on the medicine ball. I was practically whimpering in between because I was JUST SO TIRED and I wanted to be done already. With Emma I got a little sleep before the worst part, this time I was exhausted before it even started. Oy! Why do I even do this "natural labor" thing?! (I said that out loud, to Slice, and I meant it.)
After a while I thought I would need to push soon. Slice called the nurse and doc in, she checked me and said I wasn't ready. A few contractions later it happened again. (I'm starting to feel like the boy who cried wolf...) She left, I had another long hard horrible contraction standing, and it was time to push, no question. I started hollering at Slice and he kept telling me to get back on the bed. It went something like this:
"I'm pushing! Get the doctor!"
"Get back on the bed!"
"I can't! I'm pushing, I don't care what they say! Go get someone!"
"I will! Get back on the bed!"
"You really WILL be catching this baby if you don't get the doctor!!"
"Get. On. The. Bed!!!"
You can imagine.
Anyway, I did get back on the bed, and the nurse came rushing in while I was gripping the bedrail and hollering some more. Sure enough, she caught the baby before the doctor even got back in the room. It was 1:52 in the morning on February 24th. My half-birthday! And I had another baby girl!