The Braxton-Hicks in the hospital felt like period cramps. They were gone when I woke up Friday. But by that evening, I started having occasional cramps. The type you feel when you’re about to rocket liquid shit. But it kept passing. (Not passing as in farts, but passing as moving on.) I figured out it was just more Braxton-Hicks and went to sleep.
I guess it was after the Tylenol PM was wearing off, but I woke up around 6 on Saturday morning feeling more of them. I was able to doze off in between and didn’t think much of them. Around 8, I was uncomfortable and awake, which was generally how my saturdays went. I was still feeling them, but they weren’t horrible. More annoying than anything. I got up around 9 to go to the bathroom again. And there was the horror show that was my mucus plug.
We always joke about “Have you had your bloody show?” It’s in “Knocked Up,” and the delivery has always made us laugh.
Welp. I did indeed. I didn’t have it with my son. I was induced and he had been content to try to go full term, but it was doctor’s orders. I went back to our room and woke Mark. I told him that I had actually had the bloody show and we laughed about it. It doesn’t necessarily mean delivery is imminent, so I didn’t give it a lot of thought. We heard a chorus of “Dadaaaaa” coming down the hall, so Mark obliged. By the time they came into the room, I had decided to start timing contractions. I didn’t say anything just yet. They were stronger and more annoying and were coming every eight minutes or so.
J had a nice snuggle session with me and we took some silly selfies while he ate a plain waffle. I had mentioned to Mark that the Braxton-Hicks were getting more annoying and more frequent, so I wasn’t ready to get out of bed. I decided to clue him in as the contractions hit 7 minutes.
I’d been too tired to shower the night before, so I decided to take a bath. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sit in the tub if it was going to be delivery day. I also knew it would be nice to have smooth legs, in light of the fact that I had people holding them as I pushed for two hours the first time I delivered. I understood, while bathing, why women want water births. I noticed the contractions were now almost 6 minutes apart, so I told Mark to pack J’s suitcase. After I got dressed, I called my parents.
“What are you guys doing?”
“We’re just leaving (grocery store close to my house). Why?”
“I think I need you to come pick up J.”
Mom panics.
“Did your water break?!?!”
“No. But I lost my mucus plug and my contractions are six minutes apart.”
“We’re three minutes away.”
Mom and Dad picked up J. Mom was freaking out. I told her I wasn’t calling the doctor yet because my contractions weren’t close enough yet. She was not pleased. But I didn’t want to go in on a false alarm or get sent home based on not being close enough.
As it was, Mark’s brother and sister-in-law were coming in from Mobile that day to help. I get put on pelvic rest while pregnant, which restricts lifting, too. They came to help get rid of some furniture in the back room, which we are going to turn into a playroom/office. He called them to see how close they were, and they weren’t too far. So they came over and I sat on the couch and didn’t move other than to time contractions. They finished helping and left. Mark got lunch for us. Mom kept texting to see if I’d gone to the hospital yet and then chastised me every time I said no.
Finally, around 4, I was flirting with 5 minutes between contractions. I had Mark call my doctor because I didn’t want to get hit with a contraction while talking. I was so nervous. What if my doctor wasn’t on call? But then I realized she probably was. She’d been out of town the two previous weekends and rotates with two other doctors I’ve never even seen since they are all private practice located in different offices. He called, talked to the answering service guy, and we waited. I held my breath as his phone rang. I could hear that Cajun accent over the phone and almost cried. She was working this weekend. I was going to have my own doctor deliver my baby. She asked to talk to me and said “Well, let’s go have a baby. Get to the hospital!”
We grabbed our stuff and slowly made it to the car. I sent a quick FB message to the event invite for the ladies night my friends and I were having, and everyone flipped out. We parked on the 4th floor, which is where the Woman and Child Center is, and walked up. Only then did we realize something important: it’s locked on weekends and holidays. You have to go in on the second floor. So we had to reload the car and slowly waddle to the car and then back to the second floor entrance. They set me up in the same triage room I’d been in on Thursday. It was getting very real very quickly.
I guess it was after the Tylenol PM was wearing off, but I woke up around 6 on Saturday morning feeling more of them. I was able to doze off in between and didn’t think much of them. Around 8, I was uncomfortable and awake, which was generally how my saturdays went. I was still feeling them, but they weren’t horrible. More annoying than anything. I got up around 9 to go to the bathroom again. And there was the horror show that was my mucus plug.
We always joke about “Have you had your bloody show?” It’s in “Knocked Up,” and the delivery has always made us laugh.
Welp. I did indeed. I didn’t have it with my son. I was induced and he had been content to try to go full term, but it was doctor’s orders. I went back to our room and woke Mark. I told him that I had actually had the bloody show and we laughed about it. It doesn’t necessarily mean delivery is imminent, so I didn’t give it a lot of thought. We heard a chorus of “Dadaaaaa” coming down the hall, so Mark obliged. By the time they came into the room, I had decided to start timing contractions. I didn’t say anything just yet. They were stronger and more annoying and were coming every eight minutes or so.
J had a nice snuggle session with me and we took some silly selfies while he ate a plain waffle. I had mentioned to Mark that the Braxton-Hicks were getting more annoying and more frequent, so I wasn’t ready to get out of bed. I decided to clue him in as the contractions hit 7 minutes.
I’d been too tired to shower the night before, so I decided to take a bath. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sit in the tub if it was going to be delivery day. I also knew it would be nice to have smooth legs, in light of the fact that I had people holding them as I pushed for two hours the first time I delivered. I understood, while bathing, why women want water births. I noticed the contractions were now almost 6 minutes apart, so I told Mark to pack J’s suitcase. After I got dressed, I called my parents.
“What are you guys doing?”
“We’re just leaving (grocery store close to my house). Why?”
“I think I need you to come pick up J.”
Mom panics.
“Did your water break?!?!”
“No. But I lost my mucus plug and my contractions are six minutes apart.”
“We’re three minutes away.”
Mom and Dad picked up J. Mom was freaking out. I told her I wasn’t calling the doctor yet because my contractions weren’t close enough yet. She was not pleased. But I didn’t want to go in on a false alarm or get sent home based on not being close enough.
As it was, Mark’s brother and sister-in-law were coming in from Mobile that day to help. I get put on pelvic rest while pregnant, which restricts lifting, too. They came to help get rid of some furniture in the back room, which we are going to turn into a playroom/office. He called them to see how close they were, and they weren’t too far. So they came over and I sat on the couch and didn’t move other than to time contractions. They finished helping and left. Mark got lunch for us. Mom kept texting to see if I’d gone to the hospital yet and then chastised me every time I said no.
Finally, around 4, I was flirting with 5 minutes between contractions. I had Mark call my doctor because I didn’t want to get hit with a contraction while talking. I was so nervous. What if my doctor wasn’t on call? But then I realized she probably was. She’d been out of town the two previous weekends and rotates with two other doctors I’ve never even seen since they are all private practice located in different offices. He called, talked to the answering service guy, and we waited. I held my breath as his phone rang. I could hear that Cajun accent over the phone and almost cried. She was working this weekend. I was going to have my own doctor deliver my baby. She asked to talk to me and said “Well, let’s go have a baby. Get to the hospital!”
We grabbed our stuff and slowly made it to the car. I sent a quick FB message to the event invite for the ladies night my friends and I were having, and everyone flipped out. We parked on the 4th floor, which is where the Woman and Child Center is, and walked up. Only then did we realize something important: it’s locked on weekends and holidays. You have to go in on the second floor. So we had to reload the car and slowly waddle to the car and then back to the second floor entrance. They set me up in the same triage room I’d been in on Thursday. It was getting very real very quickly.
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