On April 12, 2013 I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Labor took a total of 11 hours, 2 of which were spent pushing. I was so in love, and admittedly a bit overwhelmed. He grew and grew and was the only thing on my mind. That’s why when I found out 8 months later that I was pregnant again it was a total shock.
If you read my clubfoot post, you know this part of the story.
In December of 2013, I was in the hospital with my sweet baby. The poor thing woke up screaming and had a high fever, so in we went. He had an ear infection. No big deal. Then I got sick. I felt like a bus hit me, I had the nasty flu. But then I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So guess who got to go to the hospital again? You guessed it, ME!
While there they asked me if there was a chance I could be pregnant. They needed to take X-rays of my chest to make sure I didn’t have pneumonia. Seriously!? I was half offended and half shocked. What kind of question was that to ask a frazzled and very sick first time mom!? I told them no, but just to be safe use the lead vest anyway. And it was a good thing I did.
When I finally started to feel better, my husband made Manwich for dinner. In the middle of eating my sandwich, I started to feel yucky. This for me was the big signal, because the same thing happened with my first bundle of joy. I decided it was time to take a test. After all, I knew 2 other people who were pregnant with their second babies so “quickly” as well. (Everyone tells me I wasted no time)
At first I hid the test from my husband. I knew he was just as overwhelmed with our first one as I was. It was a huge adjustment. Not to mention we had him only a short year after we were married. So there was a lot of stress as it was. But I took the test in secret and waited in the bathroom alone while the little hour glass flashed. It was the longest 3 minutes of my life. Then it showed up: “Pregnant.” Dunh dunh dunhhhhhhhhh.
Inside I was jumping for joy, scared out of my mind, but so excited to have another little baby to cuddle. Plus there was a 50/50 chance this one was a girl! Then I started to get queasy. I had to tell my husband the news. I slowly walked out of the bathroom and said, “Hey honey, I have a surprise for you!” and gave him the test. He thought it was a joke at first, then he turned pale, then he demanded I take another test.
We went to the doctor as soon as we could for confirmation. The baby was so big already that he didn’t fit in the first ultrasound. They measured his femur bone and estimated I was already 15 weeks pregnant. FIFTEEN WEEKS. We could already tell he was a boy, but waited to get confirmation on that a few weeks later. I was almost half way through my pregnancy! Without knowing! Sure I had suspicions, but because I was breastfeeding I never had a postpartum period so I just thought it was in my head.
Fast forward through all of the aches and pains, the growing belly, finding out we were having a boy, and the torturous summer heat. It was nearing the end of the summer and my due date was rapidly approaching. I was due on August 17th 2014. I had joined a birth group for babies due in August and was jealous by everyone who was having their babies. Not only did they get to cuddle their precious little ones, but they got to be comfortable again. I hadn’t slept in weeks because of my back and hip pain. I wanted to be done. I was beyond done.
On August 14th, my cousin (who was due the day after me) was talking about how she was going to be induced that morning. The plans fell through and she was upset. I didn’t blame her and said, “If it makes you feel any better, I have no signs of impending labor either today.” I had been getting Braxton Hicks contractions for the previous two weeks before that and was over everything.
My husband hadn’t been keeping up on cutting the grass because he had been very busy between working and school so for whatever reason I decided the grass absolutely had to be cut…3 days before my due date. It just had to be done.
It was miserably hot outside, and I stuck my oldest son in his umbrella stroller with the sun shade up and stuck him in the shade to watch me cut the grass. When I wasn’t so pregnant, I had worn him on my back while I cut the grass, but my belly had grown too big and he was too heavy for me to carry. Anyway, I cut our tiny lot of grass and went back inside. I was beyond exhausted and red in the face. I needed to sit, and I also needed a huge glass of cold water.
And then the baby started moving like crazy. I remember taking the picture below and texting it to my mom saying, “What do you think he’s doing in there!?” Then fifteen minutes later texting her, “Contractions started. I’m going to wait a little bit longer to see if they stop.” See, with my first, my water broke in the middle of the night, and even though the contractions were only 3 minutes apart, I took a bath, called the doctor, waited for them to call me back, then took the 45 minute drive there and even with contractions 1 minute apart, still had to wait forever for him to arrive. She asked, “Are you sure you’re going to wait?” Of course I was sure! I was in no rush this time around.
Then I texted my husband who was at work. “Not a big deal,” I said. Five minutes later I was calling him over and over until he answered me. “Come home now. They are starting to get painful. And they are about 1-2 minutes apart.” The next call was to my mom who was planning on watching my oldest. She had a 45 minute drive to get here on top of our 45 minute drive to the hospital. By the time my husband got home I was trying the bath thing like I did with my first and it wasn’t helping at all. I was doubling over in pain and ready to go.
I called the doctor and was waiting for their call back. We decided it was best to go in without waiting any longer and left my oldest with my husband’s father until my mom could get there. I was having trouble walking when we left.
When we got onto the expressway I was screaming in pain. I was gripping the visor, the door, the handle, the seatbelt, anything. I was in so much pain. I was hitting the window, and my poor husband was driving as fast as he could to get us to the hospital. The whole drive there is practically a 2 lane expressway, so cars and other people were my worst enemy at this point. I was terrified and praying that we wouldn’t have this baby on the side of the expressway. The labor came on so fast.
Half way there the doctor called me back. When I answered I was screaming. She said, “So you are coming in then?” I wanted to hit her through the phone. NOPE! I’M STAYING HOME! Of course I was on my way, I was screaming about being in the car wasn’t I? She said, “Well by the sound of things, it sounds like you’re doing the right thing by coming in.” Seriously.
Five minutes away from the hospital I was still contracting every minute. Then my water broke. Not like with my first. This was movie worthy. Huge gush. All over the front seat, which was covered by newspaper coincidently. I screamed at my husband, “I don’t know what that was but you better hurry. Get me there NOW!” We pulled up to the hospital, and someone was outside to greet us. I couldn’t move. All I could feel was pressure. And all I could do was scream. This baby was coming. NOW.
That poor terrified woman wheeled me into the hospital and into the elevator. There just so happened to be a midwife getting off the elevator at the same time who saw me screaming. She told me, “Everything is okay now. I am a midwife. Are you feeling any pressure yet?” All I could do was nod yes, I couldn’t even make sound. She told me, “Whatever you do, DON’T push yet. You’re crowning.”
When we made it to the third floor, I was screaming at every contraction again. I couldn’t hold this baby in anymore. We were here, and he was ready to come out. As they ran me down the hallway they were on their radios, “We have an emergency labor. We are going to the emergency delivery room.” I was extremely scared. What was wrong with my baby!? Why are we going to the emergency delivery room?
When we got in they asked me to take my pants off and move to the bed. Are you kidding me!? I can’t move right now. My body was paralyzed by the pain. Somehow I was able to stand up, get my pants off and get on the bed. That part is partly a blur. I don’t know how many people were in my room, or who helped me and I thought my husband was there (which he was actually parking the car).
I got onto the bed and pushed twice before my baby was being given to me. I had no IV’s in, no epidural, no monitors for the baby or me, nothing. I was on the bed for three minutes before Finnley arrived. My husband came in and he was already born. He didn’t even cut the cord. As soon as they handed him to me I asked, “Is he okay?! What’s wrong with him!?” They told me everything was fine. Apparently it was just an emergency because I was practically having him in the elevator.
As soon as I had him I was sitting up and felt great. The pressure was finally gone, the contractions had stopped and the baby was PERFECT. They called me “Super Star” for the rest of the time I was there. They didn’t even know my name when I first came in! I was so happy that it was all done and everyone was okay. I was ready to take my baby and go home, but of course we had to wait 24 hours to go home per hospital policy.
Every single person who came in our room had heard the crazy story of his birth. From the first contraction to the time he was born was just over one and a half hours. Going from 11 hours the first time to one and a half was insane. I told my husband if we ever plan on having a third child (which is not in the plans any time soon) we better plan for a home birth, or move closer to a hospital.
Do you have a crazy birth story to tell? We want to hear it! Tell us in the comments!