Looking back and recounting it to others, Lil’ Monkey’s birthing story could be an episode of a comedy sitcom. Let me set the stage for you.
DH was presented the opportunity to go to Microsoft’s Tech Ed event in Orlando for a week. For a software consultant, this is a rare and golden opportunity to learn new stuff and meet other key players in the industry. Problem was it was 3 weeks before Monkey was due. DH’s argument was that he’d never come 3 weeks early, maybe 2 weeks, but not 3 weeks. We debated about it and agreed it was something he shouldn’t miss. If I went into labor, he’d catch the first flight home and hopefully be there in time. After all, we’d been told by both the childbirth class teacher and my OB that the first birth takes longer.
So he went, leaving on a Sunday. I told work I would be working from home that week because less movement meant less chance for labor (in theory). My mother and grandmother came down to keep me company. This was a good thing. Mostly. You see, my mother is very neurotic and paranoid about everything (everything except smoking — don’t ask, that’s another post). However, Mom helped fix meals, helped me do things around the house, etc. Grandmom recounted her four births which made me feel grateful that I lived in these modern times.
Wednesday night, while watching the Daily Show, I started feeling some pains. They’re just Braxton Hicks, that’s it. Calm down.
The pains started getting more intense, more frequent and the worse part, on a schedule. Not exactly, Braxton Hicks-ish. Crap. Should I tell or get Mom?
I called my mother into my bedroom and of course, she panicked and said we should go to the hospital right away. Trying not to get caught up in her hysteria, I called my OB. When my OB called back, she said wait until they’re closer then go. I told my mother this, who by the way doesn’t ever believe anything doctor’s tell her, she knows best (reference previous comment about smoking).
“I don’t know. Maybe we should go,” she said.
“No, Mom. Let’s wait.”
So we did. She went back to whatever it was she was doing. I don’t remember at this point. The Colbert Report came on and all was going well until Stephen Colbert signed off. I called the doc again. She said to go ahead, probably because she could tell I was worried, not because I really needed to go. You can read about that hospital visit here. I was only 1 cm dilated and hadn’t effaced very much.
On Thursday, I had a salary review with the CFO of our company. All during the review I kept having pains. I even prefaced our meeting with, “I’ve been having some contractions so if I make a weird face, it’s probably not because of what you are saying.” He asked if I wanted to continue and I said that I did. I also had a previously scheduled appointment with my OB. Which was a good thing. She took a look and lo and behold, I had progressed to the point where she said I would be delivering within 12 – 24 hours. “You might want to call your husband,” she said since she was familiar with the situation.
I called DH and he got the first flight home. He wouldn’t be home until 7:00 that night. Of course my mother, ever the optimist said, “He’s probably going to miss the birth. I knew he shouldn’t have gone. What was he thinking?!” Of course I was thinking this too but didn’t need reinforcement.
An hour before we were to go pick up DH from the airport, I started having contractions again. Again, mom wanted to go to the hospital. But since they were the same distance apart and same intensity as the night before, I said, “No. We’re going to pick up DH.” I asked her to drive and she did since I was in no shape to really drive.
As we arrived at the airport, I asked mom to go to the area where you can just pull up to the curb and pick up arrivals instead of parking and going into the airport. The contractions were still happening and I wasn’t comfortable with walking the distance from the parking lot to the airport. So there we waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, DH called and said that his luggage wasn’t on the turnstile. Great. Of course this happens now. “Please just come out!” I begged.
“I should at least tell the lost and found,” he argued.
“Fine.” I stated.
By now, my mother was in full panic mode. “We should go! We should go! Just leave him here!” she kept saying.
“NO MOM! I WANT MY HUSBAND THERE! WE’RE SO CLOSE NOW!”
It was at this point an airport security guy came up to the car and knocked on the window. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to move your car. You’ve been here too long. You’ll need to circle around.” Before I had the chance to beg him to let us wait just a little longer, my mother blurts out, “My daughter’s in labor!”
“Do you want me to call an ambulance or have our medical personnel come over?” he asked.
I should have been nicer but between my mother ramping up the mood of the car from orange alert to red alert and the contractions I was experiencing, I simply yelled, “No thank you! I just want my fucking husband!”
Yes, I cursed at that poor, poor man. He must have had a wife and children because instead of arguing, he just said, “Sorry ma’am. I’ll give you another few minutes but then you’ll need to move. Please let me know if you need me to get assistance.” I wish I could find that guy and apologize.
Anyway, a minute later DH came out and I yelled, “You drive!” I knew I didn’t want mom driving at this point because she was about to have a heart attack and probably in no condition to drive and neither was I. I told DH of the situation and he flew to the hospital. There was a whole argument about the amount of gas we had in the car and DH ended up blowing up at my mother but I won’t go into detail about it.
At the hospital, they put me into triage and I had dilated another centimeter but nothing more. Once DH was there to comfort me and mom had gone outside to smoke her fretted nerves away, the contractions slowed down. Eventually, we were sent home, I think around 10:30. The details are fuzzy at this point.
The next morning at 4:00, the contractions were back. I waited longer this time. I didn’t want to be sent home yet again. We went to the hospital around 8:00. They took me straight to the delivery room this time. No triage. So we were on our way.
The time between 3 centimeters and 4 centimeters seemed to take forever although I think it was only 2 hours. My original intentions were to wait until 6-7 centimeters to get the epidural but I just couldn’t wait. As soon as I was eligible, I got it. DH said he could visibly see my whole mood change in my face when the drugs started to affect me. The doctor and nurses seem to all think I was one of those cases where the epidural actually HELPED me efface and dilate quicker because I wasn’t so stressed. Within an hour of getting the epidural, I was pushing and about a half hour after that at 12:08, lil’ Monkey was born.
He was so small and so cute. I was very proud of myself for having done it, although, what choice did I have at that point? The high I felt of having my little baby in my arms was definitely not from the drugs. It was just simply beautiful and extremely overwhelming to have a little person, full of life in my arms.
It’s hard to believe he’s a year old now. He’s grown so much. And quite frankly, I’ve grown so much. The overwhelming feelings stayed after the birth and it definitely took me a while to become comfortable with my new role as mother. But no other experience in my life has proven to be so memorable or to have affected me so greatly.
I love you, lil’ Monkey, and I look forward to every milestone, crayon drawing, bumps and scrapes, and whatever else life holds in store for you.
