I have so much to tell you that it’s only fair to break it up into three parts. The birth of our second baby was such a memorable experience that I really want to write down all the details because we know I don’t have the best memory. So.
I went into labor Thursday night, January 12th.
JaNae and the gang left about five, just after we ate at Noodles and Co for dinner. My favorite. Apparently no one else feels the same? Everyone I take there is like, meh, it’s okay. Whatever, it’s delicious. Anyway, Isabelle and I came back to the Sacramento house to veg before bedtime and I started contracting just like I had the night before. I started timing them, just for fun. And by fun I mean to see if I was in actual labor. 6:00. 6:20. 6:33. 6:58. 7:06. Sort of painful, but not consistent. I assumed that they would peter out about 10 pm just in time for me to get a goodish night’s sleep, exactly as they had the night before.
I blogged, I contemplated baby hiccups, I watched project runway, I set out clothes for the morning and made sure the diaper bag was ready to go. 8:40. 8:54. 9:11. 9:23. 9:40. Closer together but nothing to write home about. I went to bed.
2 AM I woke up to use the bathroom. I noticed I was contracting again. The painful kind. 2:02. 2:11. 2:19. 2:31. It was uncomfortable to lie down so I got up and walked around, stopping to brace myself every few minutes. It felt good to sway so I swayed and I swayed while Isabelle slept peacefully in the other room. 3:15. 3:21. 3:29. Getting closer together. I started of kind of worrying that this might be it and I if I should bother Jazz to come down? The last thing I wanted was for him to get up in the night and drive down only for my labor to be a big fat false alarm. Heaven forbid I be a burden to my husband. I debated and danced around and soon I was really breathing through my contractions. FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS. I had this vision in my mind of not being able to get to the hospital and delivering my baby in my friend’s apartment. Not great etiquette. Finally, I gave up and called Jazz at about 4 am. I’ll never forget how he answered the phone.
“(sleepy grumble sleepy) Is it time!?”
“I think so!? You better call my mom.”
Less than 15 minutes later the two of them were on I-5 not speeding. Right mom? Not speeding at all. I knew I was going to eventually need to go to the hospital to be checked so I took a shower. Contractions got worse, so of course I blow dried my hair and put my makeup on. Jazz and my mom were two hours out, and it was starting to look like I was going to need to go to labor and delivery sooner rather than later – while I could still drive. 4:29. 4:35. 4:40. 4:44. OMG I’m going to have to drive myself to the hospital.
“Did you leave yet?”
“No, I’m straightening my hair.”
“Miccolene, GET TO THE HOSPITAL!”
People, you know I wasn’t about to go to the hospital in the middle of the night without getting ready. YOU KNOW THIS. No one wants to deliver a baby looking like a ragamuff. Contractions were coming about 4 minutes apart. Hospital was about 12 minutes away. I could get a lot done in those pain free three minutes between each contraction.
About 5:15 I gently woke up my sweet first born and told her we were taking a special trip to the hospital. She got right up and put her shoes and her coat on, all by herself. I grabbed the juice from the fridge and threw it in the bag, in the process spilling a good 4-5 ounces all over everything. I didn’t have time to clean it up so I threw my stuff in some grocery bags and we were on our way.
The roads were clear at 5:15 and we made it to the hospital in about 15 minutes. I had three contractions on the way, two at red lights and one in the parking garage. Bytheway, the parking garage is seriously four hundred miles away from labor and delivery. Who designed that. I waddled through the halls and had to stop during contractions, Isabelle happily ran beside me in her pajamas and fluffy ponytail. She was so good and obedient, bless her tiny soul. She was rewarded with an endless supply of delicious fruit snacks, which are basically candy for toddlers.
I showed up to the labor and delivery unit at 5:30, carrying two target bags of crap and a toddler in tow. Keepin’ in classy. At least my hair and makeup were done.
In triage I was checked and found to be a 3 plus. I was slightly disappointed, I knew labor could take days and I fully expected them to send me home. Hooked up to the monitors, they could see I was contracting regularly and decided to watch me for a few hours. At about 6:45, my mom and Jazz arrived, breaking all land speed records. I was so happy to see them I almost cried! I was saved. Plus Jazz brought me the latest People magazine.
I contracted and swayed and stood on my toes or WHATEVER felt good for two hours and I was checked again. By some labor miracle, I was a 4. I was actively dilating… and they decided to admit me. One way or another I was going to leave that hospital with a baby in my arms. I was in labor! All by myself! Yeah!