I wasn't sleeping well at night at this point. I was big. I had reflux. I was big. You get the picture. I loved being able to attempt sleeping in.
I had a follow-up appointment the next day. They would monitor my blood pressure again and do a stress test on the wee one; then we'd see what the plan was.
I decided to paint my toes. I really, really wanted to make sure that my toes were painted and my legs were shaved when I went into labor. I know, now, who gives a flip about your legs and toes when you're birthing a child? I did. I had several concerns about giving birth. My biggest concern? ha. Voiding something other than the baby on the table. Oh...I was so nervous that I'd do that! And if you know me at all, you know that this would be traumatic for me with my husband standing right there!! Oh the fear...
So somehow I managed to bend enough, despite my hugeness, to get my toes painted...red, I think it was. Soon after I finished that, a great friend of mine called to invite me to lunch. We had never been able to have lunch together because I worked full-time. She was staying home with her soon-to-be three year old...I couldn't wait to be like her!
We went to lunch...Mexican! Did I mention that the nearly three year old was a boy? All boy. And he was constantly in trouble during our lunch. I tried to enjoy myself, but whew. I was glad to get home.
I waited on hubby to get home. Dinnertime rolled around and momma wanted a chocolate milkshake. Hubs went to Sonic to fetch my desire...but called to say their machine was down that he would have to go to McDonald's instead. Fine. Who cares. If it's a chocolate milkshake, I don't care where it comes from.
I hung up the phone. I went to the back door to let our dog in. We came into the living room. I squatted down to wipe his paws...and there was a 'pop'...followed by...well...a gush.
I thought to myself, 'hmm...surely I didn't just wet my pants...'
I ran to the bathroom...and I was convinced that my water had broken.
I came back in the living room to grab the phone...I needed to call hubby!!
He answered the phone like he was bugged out that I was bothering him when we had just spoken a minute ago.
And through my, get this, laughter, I managed to tell him that I was 100% certain that my water broke. I had grabbed a towel and was standing on the tile at our front door. I hung up with him...he was going to fly home...and I started making phone calls. And I continued laughing. I'm not sure what was so funny, but I was giddy. (I still have people tease me about calling them laughing about my water breaking!)
When hubby got home, I told him to do x, y and z while I jumped in the shower. I needed to shave my legs, remember?? (Boy was I glad I painted my toes!) I had a great shower, laughing the whole time...and off we went to the hospital.
I told the dear husband that I was in no pain...but he had to live out a dream. Flashers on. Pedal to the medal. We were speeding our way to the hospital. How could I deny him this 'right'? We giggled all the way to the hospital...and I didn't eat my McDonald's or drink my milkshake. I had been told not to eat while in labor, so I didn't. I really didn't want to toss my cookies!
You should know that we live about 45 minutes from the hospital and it was another fear of mine that I would have contractions, go all the way to the hospital just to be sent home. I prayed that my water would break at home so that I'd be guaranteed a room. Thank you, Lord!
We got all checked in by about 8pm. I was barely dialated. I had very light contractions. It appeared that it was going to be a long night. Then the contractions began to pick up...because of the pitocin, so I got an epidural a couple hours later...best thing ever!! No one had checked me in a while so I asked them to.
What they found changed the whole night...