Ever since I started blogging (literally back when I was 13 years old on LiveJournal.com, hi I’m so embarrassed) I would see moms and new moms alike sharing the birth stories of their babies.
As someone who has aspired to be a mom since I was just a kid myself, I always figured I’d have my own crack at a birth story post or two someday.
Now that I’m finally in that position 17 years later, here I sit staring at a blinking cursor wondering who would even care to read about this. Especially since the blogging world didn’t even know I was pregnant until after small fry arrived. 😂 Whom, by the way, is seven months old today! 🙂
Nevertheless, I feel time speeding by, and as it does, I want more and more to document these things, as I know there must be so many little details I’ve already forgotten just six+ months later, and I don’t want to lose any more of them. So at the very least, I know I will always have it archived here for whenever I want to go back and revisit it.
So without further ado, it all started fourth of July weekend, 2019. We were at the beach with my mom and stepdad as a “last hurrah” of sorts before baby arrived. I was due July 20th and had had my weekly prenatal visit the Tuesday before.
This particular Tuesday was stressful for a couple reasons– my dad had just recently passed away about three weeks prior, for one. Second, after my appointment my mom and I were planning to go over and clean out his apartment for a second time after “evicting” the squatter who’d left his shit in there to begin with. And just when I thought I couldn’t be more stressed before a doctor appointment, my car felt weird during the 40-minute drive over there, and I pulled over at my grandma’s house (thankfully she lives close to my OBGYN) to find my tire was D E S T R O Y E D.
Like, destroyed as in, I don’t know how I made it as far as I did without some crazy blowout. So after sending a heartfelt thank you to the Big Guy Upstairs, I did what any responsible adult would do, and called my mommy who happened to be nearby and available to drive me to my appointment and then wait with me for two hours for AAA to arrive afterward.
Naturally, due to the perfect storm of stress the universe conveniently coordinated the same day as my prenatal appointment, my blood pressure was a touch higher than normal.
Up until now I had been priding myself on my solid 110/60 blood pressure throughout pregnancy. Why? I don’t know. Gotta get excited about something when you spent most of it living with your in-laws & holed up in your room watching seven seasons of Bringing Up Bates because you’re all caught up on the Duggars.
I insisted it was just because of the flat tire, but my doctor had me get blood work done just in case. So off I went on my merry way, eager to wrack up an additional medical bill preceding the sort of big ticket HOSPITAL STAY inevitably coming down the pike. 💸💸 Fly away, dollars! Be free!
Flash forward to Saturday on the way home from the beach, we got a call from my doctor who had seen my blood results and thought that I was “on the path to preeclampsia,” and decided we were going to go ahead and induce.
Holy shit. Planning on having a baby in “idk like two weeks” is one thing. Knowing that the date was going to be any day now was actually kind of nauseating. We were so excited, but the uncertainty of not knowing the exact date was making me incredibly anxious. I had this vision of me getting the call and needing to jump in the car and go without having had my hospital bag packed, food in the fridge for when we got back, etc. I was waiting until last minute because things I would be bringing are things I use at home on the daily, and I didn’t want food to be rotting at our house while we were gone. I just wanted to know a specific date so I could start to plan accordingly. I’m all for spontaneity, but like.. not this time. 😂
Which, it’s not like I assumed he would just pop on 7/20 like clockwork, so I imagine I would’ve experienced this same anxiety the days leading up to my due date anyway. In fact if I went into labor on my own, it would have been even more hectic. So, I’m not sure why I thought this was worse lol. It was literally as planned as could be. 😂
Anyway. Monday rolls around and we are sitting getting our oil changed, and the hospital calls. It’s official: I’m scheduled for Wednesday night, July 10th, set to arrive at 7 or 9pm (I already can’t remember) after eating a big dinner, since that was the last precious food I would ever eat as a woman who could do so without a baby yelling at her.
They didn’t quite focus so much on that as the fact that I’d likely be in labor for the next million hours with the ever-present possibility of a c-section so no food after 7pm, but I mean, you say potato…
I had my last prenatal scheduled for the next day and they figured I might as well go. At this point I’ve gotten rather attached to the idea of not being pregnant anymore. I don’t want to end up waiting til my due date, so I’m hoping and praying my BP is still high enough even though I know it’s not preeclampsia just flat tire syndrome that put me on the books for an induction. Because I am a doctor. Lol, just kidding. More like I had no real symptoms other than a stress-related BP reading.
As luck would have it, my BP was nice and normal. Weird. 😂 Thankfully my doctor said once it’s scheduled she wouldn’t “unschedule” it, so we wouldn’t be cancelling, & that even though my BP is fine, she said my levels were just off enough that it was probably time to have a baby. Fine by me, doc. I mean I was still shitting bricks but like, at least I wouldn’t have to do so for the next nine days and counting.
That night, Anthony and I went to the movies for our “last date night” as a rested couple. We went to see the new (at the time) Annabelle movie (fun fact: we only splurge on movie tickets if Vera Farmiga is in it. Otherwise we wait for Redbox because cheap 😂And even then, it was on $5 Tuesday. 😬). After the movie we went to Denny’s, as it was pretty late and they were still open. We sat in the same spot we sat the first time we went to Denny’s back when we were first into each other and hanging out with my cousin so that we could hang out with each other. Aw.
July 10th arrives. Slowest day ever. Finally, Anthony is home and it’s almost time to leave. Always willing to chow down at a moment’s notice, I ate, but not like, last meal type of eating like I should have. I was a tad nervous about getting induced and the nerves kept me from my normal appetite. So I think I ate a little bit of some lasagna that we had in the fridge from Anthony’s mom, decided I was full, and off we went. GULP.
To be continued…