The Long Goodbye (Part 3.1): Loose Ends

So.


Let us rewind to Friday, May 25th, shall we?

I went to my doctor's appointment as usual. I figured since the baby was due Sunday, May 27th, the visit would be my last. At the end of my checkup, however, the doctor said, "Well, it looks like it may be another week before this baby comes."

Drats! I really didn't want to spend another week bemoaning all the things that could go wrong (yes, I had been reading more literature on lost pregnancies and the like). After a minute, I consoled myself that now, at least, I'd have time to buy last-minute baby items. Plus, my parents wanted to attend my cousin's wedding (a 10-hr round-trip) on Saturday, but had debated going because of the baby. Now they could go without guilt.

That night, I went shopping which has a way of making me feel better. I walked around for quite a while in the baby section thinking about all of the preparations Tim & I had made. For crying out loud, we had a birthing plan. A birthing plan is basically a wish list of things parents can make for their doctors & nurses (ex: "Please do not offer pain medication unless specifically begged--er--asked for"). Apparently, only new moms/dads do this, because most experienced parents know that nothing is off the table when it comes to labor. In my mind, I had worked out what I hoped would happen: my contractions would start, I'd stay home to work through them, and at the last possible minute, head to the hospital. I wanted to be in a familiar area for as long as I could. My water would probably break at the hospital, like all of my mom's pregnancies had. My pregnancy books and magazines all said that the Hollywood version of labor (where a woman's water breaks and she calmly informs her husband that, "It's time") was unlikely, and in fact, some women have to have their amniotic sacs broken artificially at the hospital. Now I had another week to wonder where and when it would happen, and if I'd be alone when it did.

I didn't sleep well that night. I was uncomfortable, but that was nothing new. I felt unreasonably alert, and decided that when Tim woke up, I'd tell him I felt strange. At 6:40ish, I thought to myself how in an hour my parents would be picking up a rental car and heading out of town. I sat up.

*Gush*

People, I mean GUSH. Fluid started pouring everywhere, and all I could think to do was say, "Uh ... uh ... UH, UHH, UGHH!" I beat Tim with my hand and begged for towels. Though I knew what was happening, my mind sort of split in two. My logical half said, "Well, looks like the baby's coming." The unreasonable half thought, "Perhaps I've just wet myself. My, I hope Tim brings the blue towels, since those are a bit worn anyway ..." These two halves of my brain never reunited until two days later, but that's jumping ahead ...

Tim jumped out of bed, and in twenty minutes, we were on our way to the hospital. Hollywood, it turns out, wasn't too far from the truth (minus the dramatic music).

On the drive there, I asked Tim if he'd remembered to bring my pregnancy book. "No," he admitted sheepishly. What about the iPod, you know, for soothing music? No. The extra pillows? No. Anything on the list left on your desk for two weeks entitled, "Bring to the Hospital"? Nope.

I knew then we were looking at a long day.