(This is part four in a five part series detailing the birth of our son. You might want to start with part one.)
(Author’s note: I wrote most of these words in the hospital room as I waited for my son to be born. This is the first time I’ve looked at them since.)
Tuesday April 17 12:26 am
So, this is it, I’m about to be a dad.
I got the call around 9:30 p.m. I was at work at the paper – a long day and deadline night – my wife said, “Um, I think my water broke.”
What?! Now?!
It’s the moment I’ve been training for in my head since I learned I was going to be a dad – the rushed drive to the hospital. I’d even done several real world practice runs at a slightly elevated speed. I usually made pretty good time, but now, the real thing!
I raced home from work, thinking the whole time, I would get pulled over by a cop. You always see that scene in the movies and you wonder if you’ll get a cop who is cool with your situation and says, “Hey, man, let me escort you,” before leading you on a 90 miles per hour race. With my luck, I’d get one who didn’t think the last editorial cartoon I drew of the Sheriff was all that funny. Fortunately, I made it home in record time without running into any traffic, deputies or other obstacles.
I pulled up to my house, jumped out of the car, and raced to the front door expecting to see my wife stretching anxiously like a runner waiting for the starter’s pistol.
Instead, she was on the phone!
She was talking to one of many people she’d called, and was about to take a shower.
“A shower?!” I ask. “What?!”
“Yeah, there’s no hurry, it’s just my water breaking,” she said like a seasoned pro, though this is our first child. Besides, it could be her last shower for a while and she wanted to be somewhat fresh.
Then, as soon as she hung up our house phone, her cell phone rang. While on the cell, the house phone rang. “Grand central station,” she answered.
Yeah, no kidding.
Apparently, it’s important for a woman to immediately alert every female within 10,000 miles that the baby is on the way! We should’ve gotten a modified Bat Signal installed on our roof to save time. Or maybe a ton of those spotlights used for grand openings.
While my wife is sharing this moment with everyone she’s ever known, I looked at my own cell phone, and couldn’t really think of more than two people to call.
I waited until we got to the hospital. Then I called my dad.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked before telling him that we were at the hospital awaiting the Big Moment.
“Ok,” he said, as if I’d just told him that it was dark outside. “So, are you nervous?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said in a casualness which matched his, though only moments earlier, I was racing down the road like a madman on a prison break.
No squeals of joy and excitement, just matter of fact conversation. You know, how guys talk.
Then I hung up as my wife was being checked by a nurse. We had a long night ahead of us… a very long night. Because, even though my wife’s water broke, my son was in no hurry to leave his comfy little home of the past nine months.
Our baby story concludes tomorrow. Please feel free to share your own Trip to the Hospital story downstairs (to borrow Writer Dad’s term for the comments’ section).
Click below to continue reading Our Baby Story.
- Our baby story – Part One: “Surprise, I’m pregnant”
- Our baby story – Part Two : I’m not ready!
- Our baby story – part Three: Everything changes
- Our baby story – part Four: uh oh, my water broke
- Our baby story part Five: Hello, world
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Oh man, do I remember those nights. Child number one – we get to the hospital, 25 hours later baby is born. Child number two – timed out a little better, 2 hours later. Child number three – his mother wants to wait until the last possible moment – I mean the last possible moment to leave. We get to the hospital and the ER entrance is under construction as is the main entrance – both are closed and she’s screaming at me. When we got inside I know why, 5 minutes! The nurse delivered it.
CK_Lunchboxs last blog post..A Wild And Craaaaazy Guy!
I hope the term downstairs catches on. I think I’ll put some effort into it. I think it’s really cool that you wrote that when E was born. I have nothing to document the birth of Mia besides my memory. Well actually I have some pictures, and they’re worth like a thousand words each, so I guess I’m doing better than I thought. When Mia was born, she was super late and we had to induce labor. After almost a full day of heavy contractions and intense pain, Daisy still wasn’t dilated enough. True to her personality, Mia decided to do things her own way, and breached herself at the last minute. The doctors had to rush Daisy in for an emergency C section. They handed me some scrubs, and told me to go to the room next door. I threw them on, and went next door (less than a minute). When I walked into the next room, Daisy was already open. Two minutes later, I heard my daughter crying. My life has never been the same.
Writer Dads last blog post..At Least I Don’t Have Zits
We were anticipating a late birth as this was our first and all of my Mom’s kids were late. So when I woke up with contractions eleven days early we just assumed it was Braxton Hicks contractions. Except they kept coming every five minutes and were lasting from 60-90 seconds.
After a call to the doctors office we set off for the hospital. On an late Saturday night/early Sunday morning…from a dry county to a wet county—just after all the bars had closed. In between contractions I would tell my husband to slow down, we had plenty of time, we didn’t want to get in a wreck with some drunk. Then a contraction would hit and I’d moan: “Are we ever going to get there?” He’d speed up going 90 on a two lane highway with drunks coming our way. The contraction would ease up, I’d tell him to slow down—a contraction would hit and the circle would start all over.
I actually got stopped on the way to the hospital by the police!
It was about midnight and I had had a scare and hubby had to stay with our 3-year-old son, so I drove to the hospital on my own (it was only a 10 minute drive).
But the policeman came to the passenger side window and I think he had the shock of his life when he saw a very heavily pregnant woman looking all harrassed (I had left it right to the last minute to drive there as I had been watching the latest episode of Lost and didn’t want to miss it!)
Tara@From Dawn Till Rusks last blog post..The business of blogging: Dave’s story
CK Lunchbox – Wow, that’s pretty intense! That was too close.
Writer Dad – Sounds like we have similar stories (more on that tomorrow). As for the term downstairs, it has a nice homey feel to it.
Trish – That sounds like a pretty hectic ride.
Tara – LOL, that would be something I would do if I were pregnant. Wait till my show was over.
Blogger Dads last blog post..Our baby story – part four: uh oh, my water broke
Ha! I’m not the only woman out there who was smart enough to take a shower after her water broke. I mean, it makes perfect sense. You aren’t gonna get one after you get to the hospital.
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I was a bit naive (I know!) and believed the concern my OB evinced when his (broken!) monitor couldn’t record fetal heart tones when the Evil Genius rolled around in his palatial suite, so I consented to go over to the hospital right away and let them induce.
Side note – unless you are utterly convinced that the baby will die without it, avoid inducing. Even if you are convinced, find an OB that your doctor hates and ask their opinion. Inducing labor causes harder, longer, fiercer contractions and often ends in torn bits or a c-section. Nature is rather territorial about her process.
Ahem.
Before I would let them stick me with an IV, I had a shower and some dinner. I’m no dummy.
T went home and cleaned the house – he doesn’t do hospitals. I watched videos, slept, and chatted and played card games with the two friends who’d come to keep company. We sang, too, in three part harmony, and had more nurses in and out than I believe actually worked on that floor.
I labored for thirty hours (with no meds, thank you very much, because apparently I am a mule and cannot feel pain like a normal person) and finally consented to a c-section when the doctors promised me a cheeseburger if I would let them get my recalcitrant son out (They were desperate. I was game to keep laboring until the kid came out on his own, but I was HUNGRY!!)(he wouldn’t come out naturally, I believe, because they stuck him with an internal foetal monitor, which involved barbs and his poor head – tell me, if you were making your way down a dark tunnel and something jabbed you in the head, wouldn’t you go backwards, too??). They lied.
Doctors, I have learned over the years, are bullies, liars, and thieves when it serves their interests, and I distrust them heartily, all the more because they wouldn’t give me my cheeseburger, or even a bowl of warm hospital Jell-o, even when I proved I could lift my arse off the gurney and wriggle every one of my toes. Bastards.
T smuggled me some onion rings as soon as the nurses cleared out. Smart man.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K (who can hold a grudge…)
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Hi Blogger Dad – I love the part where you’re talking to your Dad – being “casual”, because that’s how men talk.
Barbara Swaffords last blog post..It’s All About Me – Part 3
GreenJello – or for a couple of days after a C-section! Great thinking on her part.
Kyddryn – You SANG while in labor? Wow, you ARE a tropper! Those lying bastards should NEVER have withheld your cheeseburger. Thanks for sharing your story, I appreciate you taking the time.
Barbara – Thanks. Yeah, my dad is old school all the way. Quiet and strong.
I often sing when things are…painful?…(only it wasn’t, because I really AM a mule and just don’t feel or process or whatever it is, pain. Seriously. Tattoos? No biggie. Daily injections in my abdomen? Sure, why not? Broken toe? Eh, walk it off.) or stressful. I don’t rock back and forth, moan, groan, scream…I sing. It’s reflex.
I didn’t want the epidural because than I would have ceded control to the medical staff, and I would rather burn my hair than give over to doctors. Stubborn, me.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K
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