As soon as he jumped out of bed he was in high gear.
"Okay, so what do we do now? We gotta get you to the hospital. You're not gonna wear that, right? Put something else on... Maybe a dress or something... something that won't get soaked on the way there."
I was pretty calm. I went over to the laptop and posted my "
I'm in labor" post (I'm such a faithful blogger. Haha.) Then I went back to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, took a quick shower (I felt so gross and wanted to be as clean as possible before going through what might turn out to be hours and hours of labor) and I put on a summer dress, like a good little obedient wife. The dress was definitely the best way to go.
I grabbed my hospital bag and my husband grabbed his, and I double checked to make sure I had both cameras, our chargers, and our laptops. While doing this my husband grabbed a floor towel and quickly cleaned up the kitchen floor (you really do leak everywhere you walk, ladies) and we finally left.
The contractions had started about 2 minutes after my water broke.
I wasn't sure if they were contractions because they were the same pre-menstrual like pains I had been experiencing for the last few weeks. I had mentioned them to my doctor, describing them as the aches you feel before you get your period. She said those weren't contractions.
She was obviously wrong because those same aches were what I felt after my water broke. Except, as time went on they intensified.
With cell phone in hand and a towel under my toosh, I sat in the car while my husband drove. I called my parents (who didn't answer) and left a message on their answering machine.
Then, my husband and I had a short bickering session:
Me: Babe, what are you doing? Where are you going??
Juan: I'm getting you to the hospital, where do you think I'm going?
Me: But this is the wrong exit, babe! You were supposed to make a right at the fork!
Juan: No, it's not the wrong exit, babe. I know where I'm going. Just trust me.
Me: But i've been here a billion times for all of my prenatal exams, Jon! Your mom always makes a right at the fork.
Juan: Are we seriously having this discussion right now? Both roads take you to the same place! My way is faster!
Me: You're so stubborn sometimes. I'm about to give birth in the car and you're over here trying to experiment with different roads.
Juan: Whatever, look it's right over there. See?
In the end, he was right.
I mean, it was probably 30 seconds faster, but he was right.
He parked the car (I insisted he didn't have to drop me off out front. I was in labor but I wasn't in a ton of pain yet.)
We walked up to the front entrance only to find it locked.
(Who locks the front entrance of a hospital at night?? I'm so not used to that kind of thing! In New York everything stays open all night long.)
So he runs to get the car while I stand by the front entrance with liquid still trickling down my legs. (Most gross feeling ever.)
He pulls up and I get in. We then drive about a 10 second distance to the ER entrance. Apparently anyone entering the hospital after midnight must go through the ER entrance. Now I felt like an idiot because I totally didn't feel like I needed ER attention. I just wanted to waddle my happy little self into the hospital, walk to the elevator, go up to the labor and delivery unit and check myself in. Kinda like a hotel guest, except I was about to be a screaming mess, or something close to it.
Anyway, Juan hops out of the car and runs into the ER and tells the first uniformed man he sees (the security guard) that his wife is in labor. I watch as the security guard immediately dashes across the room to find a wheel chair (this is when I start to feel really important n stuff) and runs out to the car to help me out. I sit in the chair and feel awkward. Really awkward. I've never sat in a wheelchair before and a stranger is pushing me around. Weird.
I tell myself to get over it, and I try to look as serious as possible as I get wheeled into the Emergency area.
Everyone stares at me. Some people look tired, others look glad to see a "happy" emergency situation enter through the door.
One lady holding her child decides to start a conversation with Juan.
"Is this your first baby? ... Congratulations!... Is it a boy or a girl? ... Aww, how sweet. Girls are the best. They tend to be dramatic though... Enjoy your wife while she still has a smile on her face because in a few hours that smile will be gone... It'll hurt her like crazy but it's worth it."
Thank you, stranger lady, for reminding me that i'm about to be in the worst pain of my life.
A young male nurse comes over and asks me for my name and information. I hear a man groaning in pain in a nearby room. His groans become more and more intense as the seconds go by. I immediately begin to feel like i'm living through some kind of joke. This was the worst way for me to enter into the hospital while in labor.
I tell the nurse, "I pre-registered and gave all of my information to the hospital so that I'd just be able to go straight up to the birthing unit without a problem."
"I'm sorry but we have to do it this way for anyone who enters after midnight."
At this point I'm annoyed. I just wanna get out of there. It's making me nervous to hear that man groaning.
Just 2 minutes later (thank God!) I was being wheeled into the elevator by a friendly nurse.
When you're in labor everyone's friendliness counts. If someone is unfriendly (like the deadheaded nurse that was about to greet me in the birthing unit) then all you wanna do is smack them and say, "Don't you know I'm about to experience the worst pain of my life??!! Get it together and check your attitude, missy! Just because you see women go into labor all day doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like I'm just another pregnant woman. Go drink some coffee and light a fire under your butt!"
Of course, I didn't say any of that. My husband was there to speak on my behalf if/when it became necessary. My husband is very good at putting people in check, in a very polite yet assertive manner.
The friendly nurse wheels me into room 324 and tells me, "Take your time standing up. There's no rush."
"There's probably gonna be liquid all over this seat" I tell him.
"Don't worry about that at all. It's no problem."
I stand up and kinda just stand there, not knowing whether I should get in the bed and start pushing (just kidding, folks) or wait for a nurse to come and direct me.
The nurse comes in (the deadhead one, who thankfully was nearing the end of her shift) and she gives me a hospital gown to change into.
Once changed, my husband helps me into the bed.
The whole time all of this was happening my contractions were steadily growing stronger.
The nurse then begins to ask me for my information.
"I pre-registered" I tell her.
"The clinic never forwarded your information to us. I'm sorry."
I felt like smacking somebody. I felt like smacking somebody a whole lot while I was in labor. It's just a part of labor, I guess.
There I was, in the middle of a contraction, wincing in pain while giving her a bunch of random information.
The contractions were starting to feel like very painful period cramps at this point.
{Pre-epidural. Mid-contraction.}
When all the paperwork was finally done, a bright and friendly nurse came in. She set up my IV and asked me if I wanted to have an epidural. "YES" was my quick response. "Okay, well would you like some pain medication while you wait?"
"Not really."
I was all about getting an epidural, but I didn't want to cram my body with a hundred different types of drugs. In the end, I accepted the pre-epidural pain medicine. It kept me sane while I waited for the anaesthesiologist to make his way to my room.
{Pre-epidural. Between contractions. Still smiling.}
As much as I wanted an epidural, I was not looking forward to that needle going into my spine. I had heard stories of my mom's rookie anaesthesiologist trying 8 different times before getting it right and I was serious about asking God to send an experienced anaesthesiologist my way.
About 2 1/2 hours into labor, at about 4.5 centimeters dilated, the epidural bearer walked in.
I'm almost certain I heard a choir of angels singing as he made his way toward my hospital bed.
to be continued. . .
