My Birth Story

Chapter 1: Broken Water

"Imagine she comes tonight," I joke to Russ as we sit across from each other, sharing a chicken caesar salad, meatballs, a margherita pizza, and a big pretzel with 3 different dipping sauces (we both favored the honey mustard). It's our 3 year wedding anniversary.

I head to the bathroom mid-meal, not knowing if I really have to pee or if she's just sitting on top of my bladder.
"When are you due!" asks a sweet stranger, coming out of the bathroom as I walk in.  
"6 days!" I smile.
"You look amazing." 
I do look amazing. I'm wearing the skims maternity dress. It hugs my bump so beautifully, and I feel the most feminine that I've ever felt in my entire life. My hair is slicked back in the front, my curls pulled together in the half-up, half-down style that all curly girls swear by.

Turns out I did have to pee. I linger in the bathroom a little, turning left and right in front of the full body mirror. I swear my bump dropped today.

I get back to the table + take another sip of my frozen lemonade. It's a little too sweet for me, which says a lot because I LOVE sweet, but she dances in my belly with every sip. And I love that feeling. So I keep sipping.

We finish our meal and pay. I hoist myself up into the passenger seat. We're home in 10 minutes.

We walk in the door and greet the cats before sitting on the couch + scrolling for a bit. We're each in our own little world, occasionally colliding them with a phone flip + a "watch this." 

After a solid 15 minutes of brain rot, I put my phone down and crawl over to Pepper, who's made herself comfortable in a ball on the couch. I put my nose up to hers + nuzzle, the way I always do. The way that prompts her to lick my nose + start to purr. And she does.

I shift positions a little bit. 
"What the?" I say, silently asking myself if I just peed in my pants.

"What's going on?" Russ asks, putting his phone down.
I don't have words, because I'm not quite sure what's going on. But I do furrow my brows and pout my lips, locking eyes with my husband of 3 years on the dot, a non-verbal way of saying, "something is definitely going on."

I go to the bathroom and empty my bladder.
I stand up.
I pee in my pants again.

"I think my water's breaking," I call to Russ, not quite believing it.
"Okay!" he says, coming to my side.

I start shaking. Is it adrenaline? Is it nerves? Is it a hormonal fluctuation? It's probably all of the above. But my water is definitely breaking. And now I believe it.

Russ lines the house with towels.
I'm half cracking up, half trembling.
"My hospital bag still isn't packed!!!!" I say with a huge smile + chattering teeth.

"Call the doula!" Russ says.
I text Avrey + let her know that my water's breaking.

It's 9:30pm.
Our typical bed time.

I remember my plan: labor at home as long as possible. That will be easy! I'm not having any contractions. We'll pack the hospital bag and get into bed. I'm a first time mom, it can be a while before labor really starts. We've got this.

I sit on the floor of our room, on top of one of the 59 towels that Russ laid out all over the house, as I direct him on what to pack in my hospital bag. The thing is, I had every intention of packing it the next day. I had a checklist on my phone and everything! A few Amazon packages would arrive in the morning with things that people on the internet ~swore~ were hospital bag non-negotiables. We'll see how non-negotiable those things really are, because they're not gonna get here in time.

The hospital bags are packed + the car is loaded. It's time to get some sleep. Russ puts a towel down on my side of the bed. I get in and shut my eyes.

There's no way in hell I'm going to fall asleep.

I lay there for an hour before I feel my first contraction. It's 11:30p now, and it feels like mild period cramps. "No big deal!" I think, breathing through them with ease.

The contractions are getting a little bit more intense now, 30 minutes in. I wake up Russ and tell him, "Each contraction lasts for about 3 deep breaths. As they continue to get more intense, I need you to breathe with me and to remind me that I can do anything for 3 deep breaths." 
"Of course, babe," he agrees, and follows through on that for the next 60 minutes. 

It's 1am now, and the contractions are getting more intense. I tiptoe out of our room and call my midwives. The midwife on call tells me that when I'm ready to head to the hospital I should go. I tell her I will try to stay home longer, and will call her when I'm on my way in. 

Over the next 30 minutes, things are ramping up. I can no longer stand through contractions. I have to hold onto the sink and get into a deep malasana, rocking from side to side. If I lose count of my breath, things get really hard. The breath is my anchor. There are noises coming from the depths of my throat that I didn't even know I could make. My back hurts so bad. I must be about 6cm by now. This must be active labor.

I tell Russ that it's go-time. I can no longer talk through the contractions. We say bye to the cats and get into the car. By the time we pull up to the hospital it's 2:00am. 

The nurse comes in and takes my vitals, asking me questions that I make Russ answer because I can barely form words at this point. She tells me that my midwife will be there soon for a cervical check and that I should change into the hospital gown now.

"I have my own hospital gown that I want to labor in," I say between contractions.
"You can change into that later," the nurse responds, "things may get a little messy."
What the hell am I in for?

Russ comes in the bathroom with me to help me change into my gown. My contractions are about 90 seconds apart, and I'm desperate for counter pressure with each one of them. He knows his job. We have a system down at this point. When he starts hearing those primal noises, he squeezes my sacrum. Neither one of us getting a break from this physical work.

Finally, my midwife arrives. 
It's time for my cervical check. 
This will tell me how far along I am.
Judging by the pain, I've gotta be pretty far along.
I'd guess 7cm dilated. 

She puts what feels like her entire forearm into my body and I've never experienced such discomfort. It feels like she's examining me for 28 years. I'm squirming, maybe even yelling at her to gtfo, I don't remember. 
But I do remember what she said afterwards.

"You're 3 cm."
F*ck.

to be continued...