Sometimes, the best laid plans just don’t work out how you expected. Here is a perfect example.
My repeat c-section was scheduled for 11-4-11. I was to arrive at the hospital at 6am, the surgery would start at 7:30 and we would have our little bundle around 8. I would be in full makeup, be wearing my cute “on the way to the hospital” outfit and have my adorable PUSH! hospital gown in my bag.
In the week leading up to that all exciting Friday, the hubs would leave on his business trip to Chicago Tuesday and be home Thursday mid-day so we could have our last family of 3 dinner. I would be covering up those premature grays, get my spray tan on and pick up my mom from the airport. I would clean the house and have the
wine cooler fridge all stocked up. I would finish packing my bags and lay out all of the outfits I wanted Cooper to wear to the hospital.
On Monday (Halloween), I woke up and my lower back hurt so bad. I have had back surgery and will have totally random pain, so I didn’t think too much of it. I laid on the heating pad and took a long shower. It felt better, so I ran to the store to pick up a couple things for dinner. My back started hurting a bit more. I called my mom and sis while I was there to ask what back labor felt like. I just felt off and thought maybe something was happening. In the back of my mind, though, I knew Cooper was 2 weeks late and the chances of me going into labor 10 days early were slim shady.
That night, we went Trick-or-Treating through the neighborhood, I ate my entire pregnant weight in candy and we vegged in front of the TV.
Then the contractions came.
They were every 3 minutes or so, not too long, but uncomfortable enough to make me cringe. And make me teary eyed. I told the hubs I should just go to sleep and see how I felt the next day. The contractions woke me up almost once an hour, but the frequency was way down.
Tuesday morning, the hubs was all packed up for his flight. I was having some contractions, but they were about every 10 minutes, so I thought nothing would really come of them. He told me to call the Doctor just to make sure, but he had to leave for the airport if he was going to make his flight. I was going to call him as soon as I heard back from her office and we would make our plans. I didn’t want to call because I wasn’t ready. Waterworks flowed easily, just as they did the entire pregnancy and the hubs asked what would make me feel better. All I could mutter through the sobs was “I have grays and I’m white as a ghost”.
We didn’t have time for hair coloring, but I was in my bathing suit with my ever so gracious hubs can tanning me in no time.
Hubs left for the airport and I waited on the call. By the time I talked to her, my contractions were every 3 minutes and about 1 minute apart. She said head to the hospital. Since my Mom wasn’t in town yet, I called my brother-in-law who left work to meet us at the hospital to watch Cooper. I finally got out of the bathing suit, threw some more clothes into the suitcase and waited on the hubs to make his way back from the airport.
We got to the hospital at 11:15am. Got Cooper set up with my BIL in the lobby with movies, iPad and snacks. I was brought into Labor and Delivery triage and hooked up to the monitors. I could see and feel the contractions coming, but they weren’t too painful so we weren’t sure if they’d keep me or send me home. We were in there about 20 minutes when the Anesthesiologist came in to check my back. I said “does this mean I am having a baby now?” Yep. Yep it did. My Doctor then came in and said I was having plenty of contractions to go ahead and do the c-section.
We made a couple phone calls. Took a picture of my large and in charge self in the hideous hospital gown and away I went. Before I knew it, I was being snuggled by a big dude that happened to be the surgical assistant while getting my spinal block. That took a couple tries since my vertebra are fused together so I was sure I was going to be paralyzed.
Last c-section, I was so exhausted from laboring for 39 hours and I didn’t give a crap what was happening. This time, I cared that my legs were spread wide open as people milled around the room chatting about their dinner plans. I cared enough that when they started cauterizing blood vessels, I asked if I was on fire. Seriously, that is the worst smell ever.
I heard “this baby is big“, “this baby just keeps coming out…he’s so long!” and at 1:32pm, our sweet little man came into the world. 8lbs 10oz, 22.5″. Almost 2 hours from the time I walked into the hospital, I was a mother of 2. We went into the recovery room for a while and by 4:15 we were happily in our room with Cooper coming in to meet his baby brother.
My kitchen had dishes in the sink, my fridge looked ransacked, Cooper wasn’t in his Big Brother shirt and I wore the bloody awful hospital gown in my first picture with my baby. But you know what? It didn’t matter. Callan has a ridiculously sweet birthday and we are all healthy and crazy happy.
Finally home sweet home and everything is going better than I thought.
I still have only left the house for Callan’s newborn weight check, but I feel really good. So good, in fact, that baby #3 doesn’t completely freak me out. Okay, kinda.