7/12/11

A year ago tonight I went to SoCal dinner at Steph's where we ate Papa Murphy's pizza and Margie's delish salad. I thought I might have been having contractions. I was right.


I went home, spent some time with D, and went to bed.  At 12:42 I woke up to, what else, pee. But then I felt like I had to do more than that. I tried and tried with no success, went back to bed, but didn't want to wake D, so I went downstairs to watch tv. I couldn't sit still so I googled "what does labor feel like." I read a yahoo answer that described exactly how I was feeling. Even still, I was in denial. My mom wasn't coming for five more days because we were convinced there was no way I would have him early, so, logically, he was going to stay put for five more days.


I flipped and flopped on the couch; tried to go the bathroom over and over again; finally, I sat on the yoga ball to bounce or do some stupid move I learned in our labor and delivery class. Rather than me popping the ball like I worried about, the ball popped me.  Broken water, all over the place, just like in the movies. I waddled upstairs to let D know it was time.  It was almost 2am on the dot.  I'll never forget the look on his face- as he is with just about everything in life, he looked confident, excited, and completely ready to go.  I don't know how I was expecting to feel, but I certainly didn't think I would be as calm as I was. 

After changing my pants six times (no one tells you when your water breaks that it's like a freakin' faucet), we headed out the door. 


The rest of the story is too long to get into in a single blog entry, but it was eventful, as all birth stories are.


In five minutes it will be my boy's first birthday, but I wanted to take the time to remember the events leading up to 10:13am on 7/13/11...