Obligatory labor story

I'm sure you've just been sitting there on pins & needles waiting for the labor story. The wait is over!

You may remember I've had a plethora of due dates. I'm exaggerating, but I like the word "plethora." They were Sept. 25, Oct. 7, and Oct. 2. The ultrasound techs liked Oct. 2 in the end, but my doctor and I had a Sept. 25 hunch. You know who doesn't care about due dates? Babies.

You may also remember I've been petrified of going into labor, and of random water breakage. I was so paranoid that I bought a waterproof liner for my side of the bed. I was convinced my water was going to break in the middle of the night while I was sleeping. But then I realized the chances of that were probably pretty slim. And I was right. Kind of. It broke at 6 a.m. while I was sleeping, on Sept. 14. At first I wasn't even convinced that it was really my water breaking, because I wasn't having contractions in any remotely frequent or regular manner. Then I thought if it wasn't the water, I wanted my money back on the pregnancy thing because all of the sudden I had the worst bladder control ever.

Captain America ran off to work to wrap some things up. I took the girls to school. {I'm blaming both of those things on shock} As I dropped the girls off I told them someone else would probably pick them up from school, because I thought we'd have the baby that day. So Ella says, "Why do you think that?" And I said, "Because some of the things that happen before you have the baby are happening." And she said, "Oh, because we had the baby shower Saturday?" Um. Yes.

Then I headed to the clinic so my doctor could check me out. They hooked me up to a monitor and watched my ridiculously infrequent contractions, and the plentiful baby movement. Captain America met me there, and then we headed down to the hospital for All the Baby Having. Without contractions it was a little anti-climactic. Since we had two cars at the clinic, I drove one home. When we got to the hospital, I opted out of the wheelchair ride to labor & delivery. The rush wasn't really in it.

Sometime mid-morning they hooked me up to my old friend Pitocin. Only it didn't seem to pack the same punch it did with the other two. By 5 p.m. I started to wonder if she was going to be born by midnight. I was bored with being in labor. I told Captain America to go ahead and order dinner. My THIRD nurse came in. She assured me it wasn't that bad, because she was splitting a shift so really it was only two. She gave that pitocin a final crank, and BAM, we were in business. Shortly after that I called for Round 1 of nubane, because I am deathly afraid of epidurals. The next couple hours is sort of a blur.

It boils down to this: After a while the nubane wore off, and I called for Round 2. There was some discussion about how sometimes Round 2 doesn't work, and should they give me something else? Well, she likes nubane, let's give her more nubane. IT DIDN'T WORK. And it was time to push. Apparently Me + Labor - Nubane {and all drugs for that matter} = Screamer. I'd like to apologize to everyone in the room and in that wing. When it was over I remember thinking maybe I was louder in my head than in real life. Captain America assured me that was not the case. I also noticed my throat hurt from All the Screaming. The only moment I really remember was during the pushing when a nurse said, "Look down at your baby!" and I yelled "NO WAY!" Because I like the miracle of birth to be a pretty miracle. Where a shiny clean baby is placed in my arms and I can pretend she's always been shiny clean. Like on tv.

She was born at 7:44 p.m., weighing 6 lbs. 9 oz. 11 days early. Or more. Or less. Just a tiny peanut. She remained nameless until the next morning when we consulted the Big Sisters. They chose Zoey Elizabeth. She missed Captain America's birthday by 4 hours. Which is best summed up by a balloon some friends brought him at the hospital. It said, "It's my birthday, it's all about me," only it popped on the way in.

So Zoey's here now. And all the labor things I worried about are over and done. I'm enjoying the rewards of snuggling at all hours. And it doesn't hurt that my doctor, also a mother, says things like, "I can't believe you did that. No epidural. No drugs. Girl, you were amazing." It's another notch in my Mommy Martyr belt.