I went around every single day for the past three weeks telling everyone, "Today is the day. I just know it!" and I'd end the day with a defeated look saying, "Today wasn't the day." And that was before the doc told me he didn't think I'd go over my due date. So you can imagine just how convicted I felt that "today would be the day" each and every single day of my 39th week. So much so that by Saturday (39 weeks and 6 days) I was so defeated that I'd given up on ever having the baby. Ridiculous I know, but again I was very pregnant. Those types of people aren't exactly known for being rational and pleasant. (Sorry ladies. It's not us, it's the hormones.)
My sister and brother-in-law came over and hung out in the pool with us all day in an effort to cheer me up. (Although watching them drink beer wasn't exactly the best way to cheer me up.) Kelly gave me a nice little pep talk about the power of thought and how my defeated outlook wasn't going to help the matter. So after getting nice and sunburned--I mean fried to a crisp--Anthony and I retired to watch some television before hitting the hay.
At about 11:00 I started having contractions. While these didn't feel like the Braxton Hicks contractions I so rarely felt during my pregnancy, I wasn't sure if these were laborious contractions. We had already been to the hospital a few weeks earlier because I just knew that I was going into labor so I was trying not to jump the gun again. We started timing the contractions and they were about a minute in duration and 3-5 minutes apart at first. Then they started jumping to 7 and 9 and back to 5 minutes apart. Despite the noticeable difference in type of contraction, I decided to just go to bed since they weren't rhythmic and it was now 12:30 in the morning and I was exhausted. Did I mention the hospital was 35 minutes away? No way I was going to make that drive just to be turned down yet again at the hospital. I told Anthony it'd be a different story if I had a clear cut sign like these weird contractions and my water breaking. So we got ready for bed, turned off the light, and I snuggled up to my GIANT body pillow. Pregnant ladies, you know what I'm talking about. It wasn't three minutes after turning off the light that I said, "Uh oh, my water just broke."
On came the light, and we got dressed and packed the hospital bag. (I know, I know, we were supposed to have it ready like 5 weeks ago, but whatevs.) Side note, I insisted on straightening my hair before going to bed just in case we actually had to go to the hospital. I knew I wouldn't care enough to put on makeup throughout my hospital stay, but dang it, my hair had to look decent.
My contractions got to be a lot more painful during the drive. We were almost to the interstate when we saw that the train rails were down and there was a line of cars....but NO train. We waited for a couple of minutes before turning around to go down back roads to the hospital. This meant adding at least another 20 minutes to our commute. You can imagine I wasn't a happy camper, but it's a good thing Anthony is a trooper. I made all sorts of threats on that ride. You better believe I was adamantly against having the baby in the car, and also, I wanted needed my bleepity-bleep epidural.
Fortunately we made it to the hospital in time....
TBC, my baby is sleeping and the clock is ticking until he wakes up again. This mama needs some rest. :)
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