It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. The date was Monday, September 15, and I thought I was going to die. Maybe not die, but…something REALLY terrifying was about to happen. I was in active labor with my first son. I had no idea what to expect, outside of ALL of the YOUTUBE videos I had watched in preparation for D-Day. At that point, they meant nothing to me. Nothing at all. But things started a few days prior. I’ll fill you in on the details.
The Saturday morning prior, I remember losing my mucous plug. It was early, and I felt fine. I called my parents and nonchalantly told them, “This doesn’t mean much. It could be today; or it could be in a week. Don’t get too excited.” But of course, my mother insisted that I call the midwife JUST to let her know. By mid-morning, I started having mild contractions. They were not painful; just annoying. They varied between 15-20 minutes apart throughout the day; nothing major. But one thing was major: MY HAIR. If nothing ever lit a fire under my behind before, the thought of delivering my child and dealing with new motherhood with unmanageable hair sure did. I got busy, feverishly twisting my natural hair, in hopes of the style lasting at least a couple of weeks. Thankfully, I was able to do so.
On Sunday, I decided to stay home from church service. I wasn’t in too much pain, but I didn’t want to have to pause every few minutes to breathe, let alone deal with people while trying to stay in “my zone.” You see, I had a plan to literally tune everything out and breathe/relax while having contractions. I heard that relaxation was the key to making it through a natural labor. Oh yeah, I wanted a natural water birth…. tehehe. So far, so good. That evening, since things hadn’t really progressed, I went to bed with the intent of going to work the next day. I had a few things that needed to be done. BUUUUUT, at 9 pm, things started picking up. I allowed my husband to sleep, and I ventured into my dark den to labor alone. I was a BEAST, y’all! I breathed through those contractions, paced the room, sat on the toilet, you name it! I attempted to keep track of the time, but I don’t think I did it correctly. Based on my watch, my contractions were all over the place, some being back to back. I woke my husband up at midnight with, “I think we should go. I’m nervous.” My poor husband deliriously answered, “Go where?” To the zoo, babe, what do you think??? I didn’t say that….but I thought it. I explained to him that I was in pain, and I just wanted someone to help me. I figured they would send us home, since I wasn’t having contractions 5 minutes apart for one hour yet, or was I?
After what seemed to be one hour later, we were out of the door. What took so long, you ask? Maybe the fact that I attempted to put on my stretch pants in active labor. Could it have been my husband running around the house trying to finish packing? But I’ll tell you what didn’t take long: calling my midwife…cause I didn’t. LOL I just KNEW it wasn’t time, and that I was punking out. Oh well, the hospital has people who can do this, right? We drove down the open highway to the hospital. In one breath, I instructed my husband on how to help me focus on breathing. In the next, I scolded him for miscounting and driving roughly. Sorry, babe. We got in the area of the hospital in no time. I held my “Oh no-handle” the entire time. I made eye contact with a young EMT as we waited at a traffic light. My eyes were saying, “Please, if you have any God in you, you would help me.” But my mouth said nothing, and he looked at me as if I were the weird lady staring at him. The light turned green, and my chance was gone. Hubby didn’t know where to park……so we drove around the hospital at least 5 times. He finally began to pull into the parking garage, and I put my foot down. “Babe, I can’t walk through a parking garage.” So, he found the entrance for ambulances, ran inside for help, and an angel came to get me from the car.
Inside of the hospital, I felt relief. I was alone, as hubby parked the car, and I waited for someone to take me to labor and delivery. However, there were other people in the ER waiting room. These said people may or may not have proper decorum when it comes to women in labor. An older woman began TALKING TO ME! What?!?! Isn’t there a law against that? Let me die in peace, for goodness sake. I didn’t say that, but I thought it. I answered politely, and excused myself to zone out during each contraction that came. A young man finally transferred me to my delivery room, where things hit the fan.
Guys, were you prepared to go to the hospital for delivery? Please tell me that I wasn’t the only one unprepared.