She’s out! And I’m back. Baby Bop is 11 days old.

I’ve been thinking about you. I know it’s been too long, but at 3:00 am when I’m trying to get Baby Bop to relinquish my nipple so I can go back to sleep, blogging seems like an unattainable goal.

Here’s Baby Bop’s birth story with all the gory details. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Baby Bop came hard and fast and I was in a state of denial right up until I met her. I knew I would have a baby eventually at some point, but I was convinced labor would take days, not hours.

Tuesday night July 5th, still pregnant, Captain and I drive back from the Cape. We pull over for my millionth bathroom stop. I peer into my underwear. It’s my mucus plug! It’s out! I know that’s a sign that I’ll be having a baby soon. In case the fact that I’m almost 40 weeks pregnant wasn’t enough for me.

I’m tempted to save the gelatinous plug and show Captain, but decide he’ll probably appreciate me describing it instead.

Wednesday July 6th I go about my daily life. Everyone is texting,

“Still pregnant?”

“Still pregnant.”

Wednesday evening I confirm details for a walk with some mom friends the next morning, Thursday, July 7th.

Thursday July 7th, 4:00 am: I wake up with a cramp that feels like I really need to poop. I do that and go back to bed. 4:30 am, same cramp again. I try to go to the bathroom, no major success. I go back to bed. 5:00 am, cramp again. Are these contractions?

5:30 am: another cramp. I can’t stay in bed for it. They seem short, irregular and not that bad. Maybe this is false labor. I drink a ton of water. This is what my doula said to do if I was having pre-term contractions. Yes I realize I’m full term.

I relax on the couch. 7:00 am: I decide that just in case this isn’t false labor, I should stay home and skip the walk with my mom friends.

8:00 am: the cramps that I’m not convinced are real contractions are still short and irregular. Captain wakes up for work. He wants to stay home. I convince him to go to work. He insists on packing his bag for the hospital. I don’t think he needs to do this, but I don’t argue.

We agree he’ll leave work at noon, head to CVS for more hemorrhoid wipes and the grocery store for watermelon. I’m dying for watermelon. Then we’ll go to my previously scheduled pre-natal appointment at 2:00pm.

In birth class we talked a lot about having a plan of things to do to keep busy during early labor. I decide to clean the bathroom, shower and then have a coffee and write a blog. It’ll be great material to blog between contractions. If these are even real contractions.

11:00 am: I get out of the shower. I’m starting to have to really focus, breath and moan to get through each contraction. Blogging seems like it might not happen. I pack my hospital bag, just in case.

It seems like I should start tracking what’s happening. It looks like I’m having a contraction every 4 minutes for about a minute. I’ll see how the next hour goes. I’m not convinced it’s regular yet.

Noon: Captain texts that he’s leaving work and headed for CVS and the grocery store. I’m stuck in the bathroom, leaning over the counter, moaning through contractions. I’m tempted to tell him to come home, but I really want watermelon.

I call the doctor’s office. I don’t think I can go to my pre-natal appointment. I’m coping well at home, but can’t imagine walking to the office. Somehow I manage to talk through a contraction and the nurse tells me,

“We don’t want to send first time moms to the hospital too soon. It would be great to see you here first. We’ll move your appointment to 1:00pm.”

No need to argue with this lady. I don’t have to go. Captain gets home at 12:45pm. He’s surprised to find me moaning away in the bathroom. He sees that I’m tracking the contractions. He asks,

“How frequent are they?”

“Looks like every 3 minutes for a minute.”

His eyes go wide,

“Isn’t this when we’re supposed to go to the hospital?”

“They wanted me to come in for my pre-natal appointment. I’ll call them again.”

This time on the phone with the office I do not manage to talk through my contraction. The nurse says,

“You should go to the hospital now.”

We call our doula. She says,

“You should go to the hospital now.”

Captain says,

“I’m going to get the car.”

I guess I’m going to the hospital now.

Having contractions in the car is HARD. We pull up into a line of 6 cars waiting for valet parking. I jump out. I’m standing for the next contraction whether or not I scare the old man on the bench.

At 1:50pm Captain and I head into the hospital. I’m moaning as we go. The woman at the front desk says,

“In a couple of days, when you leave, come see me about parking.”

I tell her,

“Oh we don’t know if we’re getting admitted.”

“You’re getting admitted.”

We fill out our hospital paperwork and the nurses and midwives meet us in the hallway of the maternity floor. The head midwife tells me,

“We’re going to skip the triage room and go straight to your labor and delivery room.”

I guess that means I’m getting admitted.

One of the main reasons I chose the hospital we’re at is so that I can relax and labor in the tub. I ask,

“Can I get in the tub?”

“We’ll start filling it.”

I ask again,

“Can I get in the tub now?

“Oh we turned it off, but we’ll turn it back on.”

Unbeknownst to me they tell Captain,

“The baby is coming at any moment, she’s not getting in the tub.”

I asked for no or few vaginal exams, so we don’t know for sure how far along I am. I feel the urge to push and agree to a vaginal check. The midwife announces,

“You’re fully dilated!”

I guess I am having a baby.

I feel something bulging out like a balloon between my legs. It’s Baby Bop’s amniotic sac! I had told our doula I only wanted photos after the birth. She tells me,

“This is really rare, may I take a photo?”

I have the photo and I’ll show you in person if you ask, but I’m not posting it on here. I knew I’d stopped any hair maintenance down there, but before the photo, it was easier to be in denial about how hairy my butt is.

The excitement in the room seems to have given way to a nervous vibe. I keep having very painful pushing contractions, but nothing is happening. They have me change positions several times. My eyes are closed and I’m holding Captain’s hand. I drop it and shout,

“Where are you?!”

“I’m right here.”

Everyone is encouraging me to push Baby Bop out. I’m concerned about not tearing my lady bits. Someone says,

“I wonder if she’ll have curly hair like her momma.”

As another pushing contraction sweeps over me, I mutter,

“I can’t even get into that right now.”

Baby Bop’s heart rate is decelerating. She’s turned around and is now posterior. Or what they call sunny side up. Her head is stuck. The midwife tells me,

“You need to push your baby out on the next contraction or we’re going to have to do an episiotomy and a vacuum extraction.”

Perineum be damned. I push with everything I have and some that I didn’t know I have. At 3:49 pm, 2 hours after we got to the hospital, Baby Bop comes flying out!

 

Thank goodness it’s over and who is this person? The two hours of stitches begins.