I will do my best to recount the events leading up to this life-changing event without being too detailed. However, it is a story about having a baby so some things just can't be left out. The part about when I ate the placenta after giving birth can be left out* but the part about exactly how far along I was in the birthing process upon getting to the hospital cannot be left out.
A week ago today I realized something wasn't quite right. I called my doctor's office the next morning (Friday) and told the nurse what was going on. She asked that I go to the labor and delivery ward of the hospital to be checked out. She was concerned I had ruptured a membrane which would be cause for concern and the baby's health. I went to the hospital and was checked out by my doctor who informed me I was 1 centimeter dialated but that nothing else was wrong and to go home and take it easy over the weekend. This was slightly easier said than done as Norma, Marcus's mom was coming into town and we had our own baby shower to attend in Williamsburg on Sunday. One other thing to mention is that during the day on Friday I began experiencing what I assumed were Braxton-Hicks contractions; little spasms throughout my lower back and abdomen that were uncomfortable.
Saturday was a lazy day while Marcus cleaned and I did minimal, piddly things around the house. Norma arrived in the afternoon and we had lunch and then took a nap. Later, we had dinner with my mom and then had dessert at Carl's ice cream. Marcus went out to watch the VT vs. Duke basketball game (go VT!) and Norma and I stayed home and watched a movie. Again, throughout the day I continued to feel the "Braxton-Hicks contractions." They were possibly a little stronger than the day before but would only occur once in a while so nothing to set-off any alarms. Also, I had just seen my doctor the day before and we rescheduled my appointment for Tuesday. I figured if things continued I would inform my doctor at that time.
Saturday night was miserable but only for the sheer fact that sleep was impossible. I couldn't sleep because the spasms were occuring a little more rapidly, though sporadic, and with a little more force. It seemed that every time I closed my eyes to sleep I would feel a wave of pain. Finally, at daybreak I just got up and got ready for the day. Though I was uncomfortable I wasn't going to let it slow me down.
We went to church that morning and during the service the spasms started to become more painful but nothing I couldn't handle. After church we ate a quick lunch and made our way down to Williamsburg, an hour and a half away. The spasms continued and sometimes they were painful enough that I didn't want to talk much but I was able to get sentences out. The same thing continued during our time at Dad's house although I was still able to enjoy myself and spend time with the family there.
Finally, around 7:00 PM we started saying our goodbyes. As I made my way to the door I had a spasm that was strong enough it made me grip the table and the second it eased up I felt my water break. They weren't kidding in our childbirth basics course that you would know when it happened. I ran (sort of) to the bathroom and Marcus quickly followed after being informed that I had just left the room in a hurry. We determined, amid hysterical laughter, that it was probably time to go to the hospital a full hour and a half away. We, more quickly now, said our goodbyes and set-off on the road: me, Marcus, and Norma. At some point during the ride I told Marcus I didn't think I had a very high pain tolerance. Marcus's famous last words were, "Well, you may be getting over the worst of it now. You might only be about 5 centimeters dialated and that's the worst part they said." Stupid childbirth basics class. I've come to realize they know jack.
The spasms became much more intense during the car ride to the point where I couldn't talk and if Marcus was talking during one of the more intense moments I wanted to punch him (he was just trying to make light of the situation, something even I would have done if the roles were reversed). Norma was in the back seat and helped keep track of the, let's call them what they really are, contractions. One thing our childbirth basics course taught us that turned out to be false (at least for me) was the "511 Rule:" come to the hospital when your contractions are 5 minutes apart, they are 1 minute long, and they have lasted for an hour. For me, that was a load of crap. There was absolutely no rhyme or reason behind the number of contractions or how long they lasted. All I knew was it sucked, hard, and anbody who may have been riding in a car next to us saw a scary sight if they looked in our car and saw me gripping the car door as if I wanted to Hulk out and rip it off its hinges.
As I ask Marcus today if he felt the car ride was any longer or faster than usual he says he felt it was just a typical car ride from my Dad's. However, now that he knows what was to come, he might have felt differently at the time. Anything could have happened and again, knowing now what was right around the corner, there was the potential for Alexandra to have been born on the highway.
We made it to the hospital and made our way to the labor and delivery ward. The whole time we were walking I thought to myself, "just act naturally...don't look too distressed." I found out later that Marcus was thinking the same thing.
Upon arriving at the labor and delivery ward they put me in triage and asked me to pee in a cup. Looking back, that was the dumbest and hardest thing they could have asked me to do at the time. Once I had peed in a cup (it must have been a test or something to see how much an insanely laboring woman can take) and after a quick check it was determined that I was 8 centimeters dialated. For those of you unaware, 10 centimeters is the "No turning back point." I think our initial nurse must have been as shocked as we were because she asked another nurse to check me out. That nurse said I was at 9 centimeters. Either way, I was about to have a baby. When Marcus heard the numbers he looked down at me with the craziest smile and laughed, bordering on hysteria, and repeated what the nurse had said. Neither of us could believe it. Also, to note, once you've reached the point I was at drugs are no longer an option. That's right. Au naturel.
After this point I won't go into much more detail other than to say we arrived at the hospital at 8:00 PM and Alexandra was born at 9:24 PM. After she was born they immediately whisked her away to the waiting NICU nurses and nobody said what she was (we never found out the sex). Even Marcus was just frozen, taking in everything that had just happened. I had to ask what she was at which point we heard she was a girl. Again, Marcus and I looked at each other and with a mixture of hysteria, exhaustion, and disbelief, we repeated what the nurses said.
In the end Alexandra's birth makes for one of the most excellent stories that even I couldn't have imagined. Even more remarkable was the fact that she arrived at a time when we lest expected yet it was almost as if it were planned. Marcus's Mom, who just happened to be in town was there for it all. My Mom who also shouldn't have been in town but was due to a change in her work schedule was also there. In the end the two grandma's were at the hospital waiting for her and were able to hold her within minutes of her birth.
Here we are, 4 days later, and we're still in a state of disbelief. We are also in such awe of our family and friends. Without them we would be struggling right now and we are beyond grateful for everything they did for us. Everyone took it upon themselves to do what they could to make our arrival at home an easy one. Being that Alexandra was 5 weeks early we had very little accomplished. By the time we came home 48 hours after her birth it was like we had been ready our entire lives.
So, that's it. The story of Alexandra's arrival. We still can't believe she's here and it probably won't settle in, ever.
*I did not eat the placenta and to be honest if you are one of those women who did you're disgusting. It's akin to eating your kidney for crying out loud!
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