When I was pregnant with Calvin I read about sixteen million birth stories. And then I gave him birth and it was nothing like a single one of those stories. So there! I was kind of surprised and felt slightly duped by all those ladies. Everyone was either in danger, or it was really gradual and they watched movies or something like that.
I woke up with a big weird periodlike cramp about an hour after I went to bed. I was rather confused for a second, then I had another one, and the ouchie noise I made woke up Nate. I wanted to wait and "labor at home," or whatever, but my water had obviously broken and the contractions suddenly had me on my knees. So we went to the hospital, making phone calls and taking pictures (which were lost) along the way --me making involuntary moans of pain every 2 minutes, or maybe constantly. There was no hall-walking, no joking "between" contractions, no calm breathing, no walking to the bathroom that was 10 steps away from my bed (I tried, failed and gave up). No relief, no breaks. Just pretty much me lying there, writhing, saying "I can't do this!" and "There has to be something we can do about this!" My nurse probably thought I was a complete idiot because obviously there was something they could do about it. It's called an epidural. So after like 6 hours, I said, "Ok, fine, epidural me before I die." After the administration of which, the nurse informed me I was dilated to a 10 and would I like to take a nap before I push? Um. Sure. So would Nate. And my mom. They woke me up at 8am or so, I pushed my Calvin out for about 20 minutes, and suddenly felt amazing.
(Obviously) this time I'm hoping it will be zippy quick, and I'd prefer faster even if that means harder. And I learned two things I'm going to attempt to remember in September.
1. I can actually do it, so not to be such a negative nelly.
2. When I think I'm going to die, maybe I'm actually almost done.
I'm no advocate of any birthing method, but if it only affected me I'd probably just stay home and hope for the best. Maybe back behind the barn. (Just kidding.) It's my understanding that your body really doesn't need help for this thing, unless of course it suddenly does need help and then you'd better be grateful you live in the 21st century with medical teams and you and your child will most likely be absolutely fine no matter what your complication was.
So anyway, what was the point of this? I guess since I'm making no promises about a third attempt I'm just trying to get my ducks in a row and get in a positive mindset about the rest of this thing. The end is sort of near-ish*, and then Calvin will have to learn how to share a room, I will be able to lie on my stomach, Nate will have a daughter and Baby Sister will hopefully escape all of Calvin's choices for naming her (which include January, Bob, George, Calvin, Mom and Daddy).
*I just heard this song and I'm adopting the motto "I'm beginning to be an optimist about this" so don't remind me I have a full three months left.