As promised...

It was a dark and stormy night....

Not really. It was another busy Monday at the office. Busy, knowing that that day could be my last day for 8 weeks, if the full moon did her thing. I was feeling lousy, but who doesn't feel lousy in their ninth month of pregnancy? I didn't think much of it. I just tried to focus on work and not on nursery paint colors. It was a struggle.

Around 3, I realized that it had been awhile since I'd felt the baby move. She did not do her usual gymnastics practice after lunch, and as I thought back through the day, I began to wonder if I'd felt her move at all. My heart raced as I frantically tried to remember feeling my somersaulting baby, and I couldn't...

Shakily, I called my doctor's office. "I'm sure I'm being paranoid, but I don't think I've felt the baby move today. I can't remember, and I just now noticed." (Mommy Guilt begins early.) Of course, they told me to come in right away to get on the monitor and check things out. I quickly told my supervisor where I was headed, grabbed my purse and bolted for my car, terrified that the baby's life was in danger and I hadn't noticed.

Once in the car, I called Jason to tell him what was going on. He offered to meet me at the doctor, but I told him to wait. I'd call if there was an issue. And so I drove, trying to breathe and convince myself that it was nothing. As I drove, I felt a little something...

I should've gone to the bathroom before I left, I thought. This is just great. Now I've peed on myself. And then...another something, not so little this time. Hmmmm...

I called Jason again. I told him he might want to call his mom to make sure she's available to pick up the boys, because either I've completely lost all bladder control, or my water was leaking.  Both equally possible at this point. His response? "Ewwww!!!" Yeah, try sitting where I am, buddy.

I arrived at my doctor's office building and headed for the public restroom, still thinking that I'd peed on myself. All  the stalls were full, as luck would have it, and so I waited. As I stood there, a stream of water began pouring down my legs. There's no way that was pee.

Only a very small percentage of women have their water break on its own. Mine has broken twice now, and both times it was a big, dramatic gush.

This time, the gush came as I walking in the door of my doctor's waiting room. I looked like someone had just thrown a bucket a water at my crotch. My jeans were completely and visibly soaked. I waddled to the check-in desk, where they were expecting me. 

"Just a minute, Erin, and we'll get you back to get on the monitor." 

"Okay. But also, my water just broke."

The look on the nurse was priceless. Her head snapped up from her computer screen and she looked at me in disbelief.

"What?"

"My water just broke. As I was walking in here. I'm soaked."

"Like, right now? Are you sure?"

"Well, it's either that or I just peed A LOT."

"Um, okay, welll....hang on a second." She went running down the hall to find my midwife and let her know there was a gusher in the waiting room. The other nursing staff was cracking up, still not really believing that my water had just broken.

She opened the door to take me back, and saw my jeans for the first time.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"I told you!" I said. "There's no way that's all pee."

And it wasn't. I sat on the monitor (the baby was fine - just packing up and heading out) and gushed water while my midwife checked me and confirmed that I was in labor. The hospital is next door to the office, and they sent me over. I sat in my car in the parking lot making all the necessary calls and texts while I tried in vain to dry out my pants before walking through the hospital. It was 5pm. Jason left the office and went home for our bags, which were packed and ready.

We got checked in and settled in our delivery room. We strolled the halls of labor and delivery to get my contractions going, and nothing happened. After awhile, people started arriving to be there for the birth - first my mom and then my sister....our cell phones were exploding with good luck texts and requests for status updates. Hours passed, and still...NOTHING.

Jason and I tried to sleep. He did. I couldn't - I was too edgy waiting for something to happen. At 4am, 12 hours after my water broke, they started pitocin to induce labor. I had hoped to avoid that, but after 12 hours of only mild contractions, I was frustrated and anxious to see my baby.

Pitocin SUCKS. I went from no labor to hard labor with nothing in between to prepare my body. Suddenly, contractions started coming hard and fast, and my body felt like it was being split in half. The jovial mood disappeared as I fought tears and the urge to scream nasty things at anyone and everyone. However, modern medicine is amazing, because just when I thought I couldn't handle another contraction, the Epidural Man showed up, and I'm pretty sure he was wearing a halo.

Shortly thereafter, I was numb and tingly and exhausted. It was around 9am. After a brief scare when the baby's heart rate dropped, I was put on oxygen and told to rest because in a couple of hours, it would be time to work. I complied, and fell fast asleep.

I woke up a couple of hours later. When the nurse came in to check on things, I told her I was feeling some pressure, and she might want to check and see where I was. She lifted the blanket to prepare to check my progress, and said:

"Oh my gosh, we need to call you midwife RIGHT NOW."

Apparently, once the baby had decided to come, she didn't bother to wake me. Her head was visible and I hadn't even pushed yet. Immediately, my room was filled with nurses, and chaos reigned while they quickly prepped the room for delivery. My midwife arrived within minutes and we were ready to go. Except for one thing....where was Jason????

At the last minute, we decided we wanted my sister to be there for the birth, and we asked her to take pictures for us. He went down the hall to the waiting room to get her and bring her back into the room. My midwife was ready to give him the plan of attack, and he was no where to be found. But they both showed up just in time, and he rolled up his sleeves. He'd asked to be the one to "catch" the baby, and so they told him what to do. I wasn't sure he'd be able to do it - I thought he'd get woozy, but he didn't. 15 minutes and a few pushes later, he delivered his daughter and I had my new baby girl on my chest. 

Everyone wanted to know her name, since it had been such a huge secret. I could hardly spit it out.

"Her name is Mycah Naomi," I said softly as I looked into her precious, squished up face. She was perfect.