I’m a mom blog junkie, and I love reading birth stories. I could read birth stories for days. A few of my favorite bloggers have had babies in the past year, and I have waited anxiously for them to post the stories of how their little ones came into the world. Because, you know, a new mom has nothing better to do than blog for my benefit.
Despite my love of birth stories, I’ve never blogged the birth story of either of my boys. I’ve meant to, but it just hasn’t happened. I was talking with a friend about their births this week, and I realized that I do need to record these events, for my own benefit, even if others don’t enjoy birth stories as much as I do (although I hope you do!). So this post will be the story of my firstborn, with his little brother’s story to follow soon.
My pregnancy had been easy in every way. I had no morning sickness, no health concerns, gained the right amount of weight. I had nothing to complain about. But I still complained. Being 9 months pregnant is just plain uncomfortable, even in the best of pregnancies. At 38 weeks, I was ready for that baby to come on out! But I had no signs of going any time soon. Not even one contraction.
At week 39, I was technically on maternity leave, but still coming to work because I wanted to occupy my time. I knew if I didn’t I would just stay at home and drive myself crazy waiting for the baby. But by Thursday, I was pooped. I stayed home that day, and spent most of the day sleeping.
That night we stayed up late and watched the NBA Finals. My husband went to bed around 1:00 am. I had been having terrible heartburn, and was much more comfortable sleeping in a recliner in the living room. Around 1:20, I started having some sharp pains in my abdomen. I told my husband to get up, because I was pretty sure we had a baby coming. We called the doctor, and he told me to wait one more hour to see if they continued. By then they were hurting pretty bad, and I was sure this was it! But I listened to my doctor. The second that hour passed, we were out the door and on our way to the hospital!
I promise you, my husband hit every bump in the road on the way there, and I FELT IT. At one point I remember firing off a string of curse words, and then saying “I’m sorry God! I don’t know what else to say!” We got to the hospital, and had to check in and do all the insurance stuff…my husband was very concerned that they weren’t wheeling me off to a delivery room right that very instant. I explained to him that it would probably be a few more hours, despite my obviously painful contractions.
We were sent to Triage, which in my mind was just a formality. I knew that this baby was coming, and there was no way in heck they were sending me home. Lucky for the nurses, they agreed with me and I was admitted. It was around 3:00 am at that point. Since we knew it was the real deal, appropriate family phone calls were made. This baby was coming!
To be continued…