Well, the kid actually listened. I said that he better not arrive before the premiere of New Moon and I would prefer it if he waited until after Thanksgiving. So both of those events came and went. If you can recall I was pretty damn sick and tired of being pregnant, I'm pretty sure I complained every day.
The day before my due date rolled around, it was Saturday. Joe and I figured we'd better get out and run some errands and get the Christmas shopping done since all hell was going to be breaking loose in the next week or so. So, we head out and run errands. We managed to fit in a small fight which derailed our Christmas shopping because I refuse to Christmas shop after I've been crying in the bathroom where someone is taking a massive shit in the stall next to me. Maybe it'd be fine for some people but for me that just doesn't scream Christmas spirit, that's just me though.
That night we're at home and we figured we'd head out in the morning, have some breakfast and do the Christmas shopping. We watched some TV and headed to bed. I was having some contractions, no pain or discomfort so I figured no big deal. There's no way this kid was going to arrive on his due date, that just doesn't happen. In my mind I figured he'd be coming during the next week.
Laying in bed I was of course grumbling about having to pee for the 237th time that day, I also had a split lip. Don't ask. Okay, you want to know why I had a split upper lip? Drool. When you're pregnant you drool in your sleep. Picture it, open mouth breathing, snoring, drooling. This dries out the mouth, so when I wake up a million times in the night I might yawn or move my mouth in some way and it splits my lip open. Fun. So, laying there I opened my mouth to tell Joe something and my split opened up so I said "Fuck, my lip hurts!".
Five minutes later I felt something strange, like a "POP" in my stomach to which I replied "Mother fucker". Joe laughed and said "What, split your lip again?" to which I replied....
"Nope, my water broke."
Literally, he was a blur. I didn't actually see him again until we were sitting next to eachother in the car, and even that image is a little shaky.
On the way to the hospital phone calls were made. Momma, Morgie Porgie and my friend Kathy were all on the way. As a matter of fact Kathy was on a date, he dropped her off at the hospital. My water broke at exactly 10:00pm on Saturday the 28th, we made it to the hospital by 10:30pm. I was cheery, everything we going smoothly, contractions weren't even painful yet and I was already excited about getting my epidural and taking a nap because dammit, I was tired.
Kathy is a doula and an RN, we agreed that I would wait until I was 4cm dilated to get my epidural. When I arrived at the hospital I was 2cm. No problem right? Sure, whatever you say "pre-painful contractions lady". So, the contractions started to hurt. Wow, I had forgotten what they felt like. Yup, painful. I had to remind people more than once to NOT TALK while I'm having a contraction and for God's sake DO NOT TOUCH ME, especially my face or hair. I didn't even want encouragement, don't tell me I'm doing great while I'm breathing through the pain that feels like my legs being ripped off of my body.
Finally at around 1am my wonderful, beautiful Godsend of a nurse, Dylan, checks me and I'm 4cm! "Get the epidural...NOW." By now the pain is radiating through me and I'm trying everything, breathing, meditation, distraction and nothing is working. That anesthesiologist couldn't have gotten there fast enough. But boy was I excited, I couldn't wait to get the sweet, body numbing medicine so I could take a nap. She arrived and it took awhile but it was in and the pain was starting to weaken. After a few contractions the pain was barely a purr but I didn't feel so great so I puked and felt better. That was when I asked momma and Morgan if they were going to just leave and come back in the morning. You know because I'm going to sleep now and this kid isn't coming for a while. They just kind of look at me and shrug and Kathy says she thinks he's coming sooner rather than later. I laugh. I actually laughed. Stupid.
I tell Dylan I'm ready to get some sleep and she says she wants to check me first. Fine, I say, but hurry up. She checks me and says, "No nap for you, it's time." I then commenced to slapping the shit out of her arm. "NO, I'm tired!" I explain, "I can't push now, "I WANT MY NAP!" Then I felt it, the pressure which is actually pain. This pain is something that the epidural can't cover up, this is the feeling of a human about to come out of your vagina. "Damn it." I then began pushing my epidural button like a maniac. It will only give you more medicine every 15 minutes but it felt good to push the button, I also wanted to make sure I got my next dose not one second over the 15 minute mark.
Joe, Momma and Kathy stayed in the room with me. We had to wait for the OB and the neonatal doctor to arrive so there I am legs up, all my business in the open and they are telling me not to push. I don't even know what the room looked like at this point, nothing could have gotten my eyes open. OB shows up, neonatal doctor not yet. So now she's just hanging out down at the end of the bed, everyone's eyes on the "baby arrival area" and they are all going on about how his head is "right there" and "look at all his hair" and I'm pushing a "magic" button which I'm sure wasn't plugged into anything and yelling "I'm not pushing!"
I'm not joking when I say, the second I heard the door open when the neonatal doctor came in I started to push and I didn't stop until that kids head was out and they made me stop. I pushed 3 times through 3 contractions and gave birth to Cooper Vaughn Wolf at 3:23am on Sunday November 29, his due date.
7lbs, 15oz, 19 inches long.
That's that. Now we are home and getting used to the sleepless nights, the endless parade of diapers being flung at the trash can, the midnight crying, the husband asking me over a screaming baby if maybe he's hungry or gassy or has a dirty diaper and me staring at him blank faced because how the fuck am I supposed to know, I can't read baby minds!
We are managing. Madison loves her little brother but can't quite grasp why it is I just can't jump up and do what she needs right when she needs it, even though I would love to, really I would. Given the option to play with Barbie's over having a kid attached to my boob for an hour straight I would totally go for those Barbie's.
Hopefully blog posts occurrence will pick up soon, it's just so hard to type and feed a baby. I tried typing while feeding myself yesterday and now my keyboard has chicken pot pie in most of the upper left keys. God, that Marie Callender is a real bitch.