The Saga of Andrew

My doctor said to call when my contractions got to be 5 minutes apart, or when my water broke. Those are, apparently, the signs that you are in labor, and you're supposed to go into the hospital at that point.

Well, that's all well and good if you live next door to the hospital and you don't have to worry about who's taking care of your other kids. AND you don't happen to realize you are having contractions at 4:30 in the morning in the middle of a gigantic snowstorm. Which is what happened to me on December 16th. The contractions weren't bad, but they were frequent and regular and the snow was accumulating and I knew that Lillian, who was taking care of my children, would have to dig out her car and drive the 40 minutes up here before we could think about leaving the house ourselves...

So I had a choice. I could set things in motion and rick being wrong about being in labor, or I could wait and put things off until it was TOO LATE and it would just take Lillian longer to get here and take us longer to get to the hospital, and I would risk having this baby on the side of the road.

I set things in motion. AT 7am I called Lillian. She arrived at 8:30 with tales of horrible driving conditions. I called the doctor at 9am. She said to come in. Steve had plowed the driveway and taken a shower and we threw my bag in the car, kissed the boys goodbye (Nick was crying because he wanted to come have the baby with us) and drove to the hospital. We made our way to labor and delivery. The doctor checked me out.... and declared me hardly in labor. She let me wait for 3 hours while we had lunch, the RN's adjusted the bands around my belly, I breathed through the contractions, which were obviously, to me, getting worse and worse. And then she checked me again, declared there was no change, said I was probably having "practice contractions"and that it would probably be some time - maybe even a week - before the baby would come, and told me I could go home! Lucky me!

I was a little upset. For one thing, there were only two other people there having babies, so it's not like they were lacking for rooms. I wish they had kept me for observation just a bit longer - honestly, I do. But as the doctor cheerfully pointed out "This is not a hotel!" So I tearfully headed home to my two children, my pile of laundry, my messy house... with no baby. And the thing is... I had HAD practice contractions. I had been having contractions every day for weeks. Something was different this time, which is why I was at hospital to begin with. The fact that the stupid monitors didn't pick up on it wasn't MY fault!

So I went home. Lillian stayed and took care of the boys. Steve watched the football game and helped take care of the boys. I mostly stayed in bed crying, having contractions, writing down every single one, and watching the snow fall, watching bad TV, and doing the occasional small task. Lillian made dinner, I ate. I read the boys a bedtime story, pausing awkwardly at odd points in the text to breathe deeply. And then I took a shower.

I was still timing my contractions, but because the doctor had been so sure I was having "practice" contractions, I thought I was making things up. Steve came to sit with me in the bed. He watched me for about ten minutes, then finally said "Call the doctor again, would you?"

This trip to the hospital was much less fun. It was much bumpier. It was much more painful and uncomfortable. I knew that I was in labor, since at this point the contraction pains were starting in my lower back and running down the sides of my legs. But I was terrified that I would show up and the doctor would tell me I HAD progressed - and was dilated to two inches or something. (FYI - ten inches means you can start to push the baby out. When I went in that morning I was at one.)

I couldn't even walk when we got there at 10pm. I have never before walked into an Emergency Room and had people jump up to help me, but this time they did. And when the doctor checked me out she said I was dilated to 7 centimeters. SEVEN! How's THAT for a few practice contractions!

What followed was a horrifying experience tempered only by the use of a certain painkiller, which was not en epidural. I screamed a lot. There was a lot of technical difficulty involving the baby not getting past the pelvic bone and the birth being too short for antibiotics to work (TOO SHORT? They SENT ME HOME!). It was a big fat painful mess of a birth. But I tell you I have never been so happy to hold a baby in my arms. On the OUTSIDE of my body.

Next I'll tell you how, after not wanting to check me in, they wouldn't let us leave!