Audra's birth story, Part 1

This is Part 1 of Audra's birth story. I happen to love hearing others' birth stories. If I know you and you've just given birth, I'm the one who will say, "Let's hear it. I want all the details." Then I'll sit down to hear you out. And then have a million follow-up questions.

So I'm going to write this like I'd want to hear it, which means it will be detailed. If details bore you or if you fear that your stomach might get queasy- what with the subject matter at hand- feel free to click away.

***

It all began at church on Sunday morning.

Adelia was getting too noisy in the service, so I took her out. We found a couch and as I bent to sit down, um... felt a slight whoosh. The best way to describe it is that it was a little seepage (if that's even a word) of moisture in my underwear.

I wasn't particularly alarmed, but definitely felt the need to go check it out.

I took Adelia with me into the restroom to empty my bladder. I did my thing, wiped, stood to pull up my underwear, and again, the whoosh. Puzzled, I wiped again, finished my bathroom business, and headed out.

We made it back out to the couch, only to feel the whooshing sensation once again. Lovely.

Back to the bathroom. Thankfully our church has a basket of pads on the counter in the woman's restroom. I set Adelia down, inserted big-beefy-church-pad, and we went on our merry way.

Back to the couch. A few minutes later, whoosh.

Back to the bathroom. Repeat the Changing Of The Pad.

You may think I'm a little slow on the uptake, but I still was not sure what was going on. I wasn't familiar with the whooshing sensation. Obviously I was wondering what was going on, and the water-breaking thought had entered my mind, but I didn't think it was that, for two reasons:
1) My water does not break on it's own. My doctor does that for me, at the hospital, during labor.
2) I was pretty sure that when ones water broke, it came as a gush, not a whoosh.

Also, and probably most importantly: I wasn't about to be one of those pregnant women who thinks their water has just broken, and rushes to the hospital only to find out that in reality, they had simply peed their pants. Nope, that would not be me.

During my third trip to the bathroom, I decided that I needed to have a consultation with my man. I was hoping he could shed some light on the matter for me, and at the very least I wanted to pass Adelia off so that she wasn't crawling around on the floor of the woman's restroom every five minutes while I changed out my pad. [Note: I must tell you that it completely grosses me out that she was crawling on the floor of a bathroom. That is so not something I would normally be okay with. And yet, it happened to be a secondary concern to my primary concern of keeping dry that morning.]

Decision made. I was off to find Mark. Because if this was in fact my water breaking, I figured I'd better get Mark before anything DID gush.

So, with a fresh pad on and a quick check in the bathroom mirror to ensure that all this whooshing hadn't become visible, I made my way out to Mark and the other three kids. I leaned over to him and whispered, "I think my water may be breaking. Or something. Can you come talk to me about it?" To which he immediately got up and followed me out into the foyer. Whereupon I began to give him the rundown.

I quickly described to him the whooshing, and the pads. And I asked him, "Do you think I'm just peeing my pants?" I can't remember exactly what he said, but the gist of it was that he didn't think I was peeing my pants (skirt) and that he thought maybe my water was breaking, but wrapped it all up by saying that he didn't really know. Mmm hmm. Me neither. And then he just stood there, not knowing what to do or say.

I kept talking, and it was at this point that Mark's sister Shelley walked up. I quieted, of course, and acted like everything was normal, me standing there wetting my pants every five minutes, chatting with my husband in the foyer with our one-year-old while the rest of our kids sat in church by themselves. Because, you know, I wasn't ready to convey that I thought my water was breaking when in fact, maybe I was only just wetting my pants.

So I chit-chatted for about a minute but then quickly ascertained that Shelley, mother of four and Knower of all things pregnancy and baby-related, was going to be FAR more help than my husband in this department. So I cut the chit-chat and blurted out, "We're standing out here trying to decide if my water is breaking or if I'm just peeing my pants."

At the point where I began filling her in on the whooshing and the pads and what not, the whoosh happened again and I passed Adelia off to her daddy and headed back into the restroom and to the dryness of another big beefy church pad. And noted that the supply was getting low. There were liners and there were pads in that basket, and the pads were dwindling. I knew the liners weren't going to cut it.

Back out to Shelley and Mark. Shelley, having never had her water break on it's own, either, nonetheless assured me that my water was breaking and that no, Stacy, you are not peeing your pants over and over again. We then sent Mark back to the sanctuary, and I think he was really quite happy to go. He offered to take Adelia but I told him to leave her with me.

For the next 20 minutes or so, Shelley (and her friend Janet, who had joined us) tried to convince me- between trips to the bathroom- that my water was breaking. I was pretty sure it was, too, by that point. But I kept saying, "Are you sure it's not just pee?" I made those two swear to secrecy, just in case it was pee. So whenever anyone else walked up (Kamille, Talia), we all shushed and pretended nothing was happening. Except for when Tara walked up, and I told her immediately, because they were taking our kids when we went to the hospital, and I was pretty sure we would be going there sometime within the next 24 hours.

By the time church ended, I had the last of the big beefy church pads in, with one of the liners on top of it, and I was standing there praying I wouldn't gush as everyone filtered into the foyer after the service.

And of course, Mark was taking forever-and-a-day to make it out to the foyer, and I was getting more nervous by the moment. I was seriously worried the seeping had made it's way down my tights and might begin seeping onto the floor.

Shelley took charge, and went to the doorway to wave Mark down- frantically but subtly- if you can imagine that. She was gesturing for him to come on out with all our stuff and the kids, but he misunderstood and left the kids and stuff to come find out what she needed. She then gave him the big-sister look and ordered him back to get the kids and to get his wife on out of the building. He still took far too long while I stood there, watching the floor for wet spots. [There were none, thankyouverymuch.]

Eventually we made it out the door, and all I could think about was the fact that I really wanted to get home and stick a towel between my legs and that our hospital bag was not even packed yet.


[Part 2 to follow]