From the first day of this pregnancy I was convinced my doctor had my July 4th due date wrong.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I did what every woman does. I ran to the computer to calculate my due date using a completely unreliable, medically unapproved, free calculator I found through a Google search. This calculator told me my due date would be June 26 and I never looked back.
Certified doctors' predictions be damned. Ultrasound measurements could go to hell. I had my trusty statistically insignificant calculation and, by golly, was I going to hold to that date.
Fast forward to this past weekend. The weekend of *gasp* the 25th and 26th of June.
Let's just say I had a feeling I was going to be going into labor--apart from me being stubborn and wanting to stick to that June 26th date. I woke up Saturday morning with the thought, "If I seriously have to go another week and a half feeling like this, I will kill myself after I kill every person I come into contact with first."
Which was not my usual "eh, pregnancy is not so bad" thought.
I had gone from being uncomfortable pregnant to miserable pregnant overnight. I was losing my mucas plug (which I will politely not discuss here, but feel free to Google image search that crap if you want to throw up) which required me to wear a maxi pad.
The last time I wore a maxi pad was roughly 12 years ago.
And the ones I had on hand were for the bloodbath that apparently follows your labor. So if you picture me stuffing a king-sized mattress down into my panties to capture a slow steady stream of snot, you'll approximate what was happening in my pants.
Figuring my body was re-enacting the 'good 'ol days' in direct response to the maxi pad intruder, I was also having period pains. Let me tell you, I did not miss those these past 9 months.
So to review: losing snot out of my vagina, wearing a mattress and getting my period while 9 months pregnant. Fun!
But since I had fooled everyone into thinking I'm the most awesome pregnant woman ever, I went about my day without complaining. The day included: a massage, some tennis, walking the dogs, doing some additional nursery set-up, heading out for dinner, and so on.
It wasn't until midnight that night, that I started to consider I felt like crap because I was in labor.
Because sometimes awesome pregnant women are also retarded pregnant women.
At midnight, I woke up really uncomfortable with a feeling of having my period and needing to crap--with neither one of those things happening. So, I got out of bed and went to my trusty medical advisor, Google.
"Hey Google, what the hell do contractions feel like anyway?"
Turns out, Jen, they feel like having your period and needing to crap--with neither one of those things happening.
At 1 AM, I decide perhaps I should time when one bout of crappy period pains starts and when the next one starts. Because I really wanted to take a shower before I went to the hospital, but it's sort of important to know how close together contractions are happening.
I had clear instructions from the doctor: Call me when your contractions are 5 minutes apart or if your water has broken.
My contractions were anywhere from 6-9 minutes apart. More than enough time to shower, wake up Michael, pack a bag and call the doctor.
Off I go to the bathroom where I run the water, take off my top, and drop my pants. I get ready to step into the shower when either (a) I peed all over the floor, or (b) my water broke.
Last time I checked, I was housebroken.
I turn the shower off.
I call the doctor and when they call me back I'm told to come into the hospital.
My response, "Can I take a shower first?"
A shower and a haphazardly packed bag later, we were on our way to the hospital at 2:30 in the morning on...
Next installment: The power of medical science and learning how to labor on-the-job.