Audra's birth story, Part 2

I think it's so funny that some of you- including my husband- think this is going to be a 10-part series. Truth be told, I very nearly put "Part 1 of 10" at the beginning of my last post-- in jest, of course. But I thought to put it because I know I am detailed and can get a little long-winded.

But come on. It's not like I'm going to give you the play-by-play of each and every contraction. Sheesh. I'm not that detailed.

I know we've just barely made it out of church at this point, but I'll move along a little more quickly from here on out, I think- probably making this series a total of only 3 or 4 parts, not the 10 you're all fearing. :)

[Part 1, Where Stacy's Water Breaks, is here, if you missed it.]

We explained to the kids on the way home that we thought mommy's water was breaking, and that that meant the baby was coming and we would likely be going to the hospital soon, rather than Friday for the induction as we'd originally told them.

Ella looked worried. I'm pretty sure she was remembering me telling her that it hurts to have a baby and she was waiting for the hurt part to kick in.

At one point during the drive home Mark asked the kids, "Are you guys excited?" Everyone was, except Isaac. He said, "But I wanted it to be a surprise!" Not sure what wasn't surprising about this to him, but no matter. Mark and I were feeling rather surprised by this turn of events.

When we got home, I stuck a towel between my legs, got out my to-pack-for-the-hospital list and a nearly-empty bag, and began packing. When that was finished, I began cleaning. And folding laundry. I tried to reach my mom by phone before she went to second service, but she didn't pick up, so I left a message on her cell phone. I called Amy and told her what was going on. And then I began to clean our bedroom. Mark, meanwhile, was occupying himself by taking out the garbages and cleaning the kitchen. Ella jumped on board immediately in the cleaning frenzy, saying she wanted "to do something to help with the baby", and began helping me in the bedroom. This girl is so thorough that she was on her belly, lying on the floor, peering under our bed to see what she could clean. She was cracking me up.

Mark went to get lunch, I was having minor contractions, we ate-- after Amy assured me I should eat. (I was afraid to. We get bagels after church every Sunday; it's our tradition. And I feared that eating one would ensure that I would be seeing it later if I happened to puke it out during labor, and our tradition for bagels would be forever ruined. But Amy told me to eat. So I did.)

The contractions weren't bad at all- but we noticed they were coming regularly. When Mark began to time them- about an hour and a half after we got home from church- they were 3 minutes apart. This was also new to us.

I don't have contractions before I go to the hospital to get induced TO have them.

I wanted to labor for a(long)while at home. Mark, however, was getting nervous. Like I said, this was all new to us, and the whole my-water-broke scenario coupled with regular 3-minutes apart contractions made Mark think this may go faster than usual, and he wanted to get to the hospital to see how things were going.

I didn't want to go to the hospital only to find out that I was "still dilated to a 1". I was sure we hadn't made any progress whatsoever, and I didn't want to go until I genuinely thought we HAD made progress. But Mark was pretty persistent, and Amy said that the benefit of going in to get checked was that we would be able to check the baby's heart rate to see how the baby was handling things so far. I agreed to go.

We packed up the kids and brought them to Tara and Andy's house. It was in their driveway that I burst into tears. Mark had gotten all the older kids out, and their stuff, and came back to get Adelia for the final trip into their house. As he took Adelia out of her car seat, I started bawling, and saying things like, "She's not going to be my baby anymore. I'm going to miss that sweet girl being my littlest." Mark assured me that she still was my baby girl, and leaned her in for a kiss, and I said (a blubbering) goodbye.

If I was in doubt at church about whether or not my water was breaking, I was definitely not in doubt anymore. Towel #3 resided between my legs, and I was like, "Seriously? There is THIS MUCH WATER in there?! Does this STOP?"

When we got to the admit desk at the childbirth center, we signed in, filled out a few papers, and stood there while the admit-person clicked away at her screen. We had stood there maybe 5 minutes when she looked up at us and asked, "Have you ever had any other last names?" We said, "What?" And she repeated her question. We said "No." I just remember thinking, "Is she even serious?" And then somehow she found us in her system- under our current last name, thankyouverymuch- and we were sent to wait in the waiting room.

This was new. There we sat, at a table and chairs. (Well, I was not sitting, I was walking.) At the other two tables were boisterous extended family members waiting for babies to be born. In one corner of the room a children's video played, while NO CHILD WAS IN SIGHT to watch said video. It went on and on, loudly, for several minutes, before I said something to Mark about it. "Seriously. Must we have that on?" And he promptly took care of that.

I was wondering how long they were going to let a laboring woman pace in the waiting room. I mean, I was not comfy, people. (The TOWEL, remember?) I didn't have an extra on hand and I sort of needed one at that point. Lots of water in there, apparently.

After about 20 minutes of me pacing and leaning over the table at different times to breathe, we were called back. We met a couple of different nurses, the baby was monitored and doing just fine, I was checked, and I was a "2". No surprise there. So I told them I wanted to go home, then- and labor at home for awhile, but they said no, actually- now that my water had broken and I was having regular contractions (that had all but stopped now that I was laying on a hospital bed, mind you), they wanted me to stay.

[Insert crabby look to Mark here.]



[Part 3 will follow.]