Thursday, December 28

Really, all through the month of December, I thought to myself all I have to do is make it through the last couple weeks of our classes and then get the Christmas shopping done. Every moment I was pushing myself forward, I thought about January: I would sleep in. I would read and re-read some of the best pregnancy and birth books. I would mediate on the birth I was hoping to achieve for at least fifteen minutes a day. We would start the perineal massage so I wouldn't tear. I would finish up Cricket's room-- We had even decided on a paint color. Which is huge for us!

So when we got home from Christmas at my parents house, we started to dismantle the office that was to become Cricket's room, but the truth is that we got fed up with the amount of shit we had in that room and the closet attached, so we ditched our lousy effort and went to the movies. We reasoned that we had all day the next day in order to get things seriously under way, and really, the project didn't need to be done overnight, right? Because we had five weeks before Cricket was due, and also, I was almost 100% positive that he was going to be late, born in February like his grandma, grandpa, great-grandmother, uncle-- In fact, I was almost positive Cricket would be born February 2nd, the day my grandmother died. Cricket's middle name would then be Gallagher, her maiden name. It was about the only thing I knew for sure.

So, Thursday morning we woke up and Partner decided she should go do some work and meet with a potential customer and do some general errands. I was tired. I knew I should go work on the office, but all I really wanted to do was be prone in bed with my book. So I did do that, for a bit. But then I was having these horrible gas pains, so I thought getting up and working on the office would help move the gas about. I went downstairs and found that some cat had peed on the floor. I freaked out and called Partner, crying. Eventually we got a little done on the office-cum-nursery, but we had to leave to venture up to my parents house.

See, my parents usually go away to South Carolina for their respective birthdays in February, but since this was so close to Cricket's due date, they decided to go after Christmas. We were put out since this meant they'd be gone for New Year's Day, the day we traditionally feast on lobsters. And lobster was a serious craving I'd been having. However, since this was an essentially selfish position, we put our petulance aside and agreed to watch the dog for them the first night they were gone. One brother, N, was in Louisiana, and the other brother, K, just had surgery two days previous.

The whole drive up, I squirmed a little with the gas. We bought some dinner, and when we were walking around the market, I commented on how I felt that the baby was dropping a little. When we got to my parents' house, we settled in and felt incredibly cozy, snuggled up on the couch, eating shrimp cocktail and watching a movie. At one point I got up and leaned over the side of a chair in order to make that irritating gas move. My parents called at 8:30 pm before they got on the plane to make sure everything was okay. And it was. We were blissed out.

And, oh round about 9:30 or 10:00 I felt a little leaking. Maybe I'd held it too long? I mean at this point in the pregnancy, I was going about every hour. I said to Partner, "Can I put this on pause? I dont' want to freak out or anything here, but..." and then I stood up.

Now, when we took our Bradley class, our instructor said to us, "Nobody's water breaks like it does in the movies. Or it could happen, but mostly it never happens that way. You might get a little leaking, but no gush."

Hey man-- maybe I was destined to be in pictures, because when I stood up, the flood gates opened. My socks got wet. I was frozen for about a minute and then I started to cry and walk to the bathroom with my legs squeezed shut. You know that shuffle-shuffle-walk-walk? And when I sat on the toilet, more fluid. It wasn't urine. As much as we wanted it to be. I remember just saying, "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod-- I'm not ready!" over and over again. We called the midwife, we called our Bradley instructor. I tried not to think about the cord coming down with the gush and looping over Cricket's neck. The midwife said "Come in," and all I could do was freak about who was going to watch the dog. We felt horribly, awfully alone. And while I know there are ten thousand people I could have called upon to come watch the dog, at that moment, it was all I could focus on: My mother's favorite-- the dog-- all alone in the house. Partner said, "Forget about the dog-- We need to leave." And so we packed back up. I changed my pants, put on a pad and sat on a load of towels. We were 45 minutes away from the hospital, compared to our usual 10.

In the car, when Partner was talking to her best friend, I realized I was indeed having contractions. About every 3 minutes. They really just felt like menstrual cramps and weren't so bad. I can do this, I thought to myself. I can do this. I tried centering myself. But all the while thinking over everything we did not have for the labor and birth. The car seat! It would need to be installed! We had no diapers! I hadn't washed any of the clothes yet! The office... Uhg! I had made a whole mix of music to play in labor, but the iPod was out of juice...

Around 11:00 when my parents' plane was due to land, I started calling them on repeat and finally my dad answered the phone. He thought I was joking. They were still taxing on the runway. My mother announced the fact that my water had broken to the plane. Okay, he said, they'd try to figure out how to get home. Me, being me, felt guilty immediately; I had ruined my parents trip. But I wanted my mom. I needed them to be home, so I couldn't say, "Oh stay there." Instead I said, "I can't wait to see you."

At the hospital, the resident was unsure I had really ruptured my membranes, but I showed her-- literally-- she had to change her pants. The fetal monitor when placed on my stomach made me feel better-- There was Cricket with a heart beat as strong as ever. The contractions were weak, but indeed were every three minutes. I was admitted.

I asked to not be tethered, but had to have antibiotics every four hours. The hep lock was placed in my wrist and it hurt. I asked them to change the location. I hated they way it felt in my hand too, but it was better than the wrist. We were advised to get some rest, and about 3:00 am, we both finally felt we could put our head down. Not for long though, as the day dawned on Friday around 5:30 am, one of the midwives from our practice woke us up and told me I should get up and walk, and so began Friday, December 29th.