I've been reading about other people's births lately, and it's reminded me that I never really did talk about mine. At the time, I had so many other things I wanted to talk about, and it didn't really seem like that great a story. There was epic false labor, but then it got less interesting -- I managed to go into labor enough to dilate a little more, had my C-section, and the babies were born, the end. Still, I'd like to tell it, if only so that I have it down before I forget any more details.
That Wednesday was an absolutely beautiful morning. I couldn't help thinking of it as "9/11 gorgeous" -- there was a lot of media chatter about the upcoming fifth anniversary, and the weather was just the same clear September sunshine as that lovely day when G called and woke me up to tell me, "I think it's the end of the world or something". My first waking thought was the same one I'd had every day since the preterm labor at 32 weeks, the simple question, "will my babies be born today?". Four weeks earlier, I'd asked it in fear, but now I was mentally exhausted and physically miserable, and I just wanted it to be over.
My friends told me, just wait, I'd want them back in, assvice which infuriated me -- I'd waited forever for these babies, and it's not like any of them had twins. My husband told me, be patient, that every day of misery would pay off in terms of the babies' health. I knew he was right, but I didn't have any more patience left in me. It was perfectly clear to me that the skin of my swollen legs would start splitting right open, and that I would get stuck in my recliner because I was too heavy to get up. I laid in bed for a bit after waking, unwilling to make the effort to get myself out of it, until Baby A forced the question by kicking my unmentionables.
I got up and settled myself in the recliner with my laptop, and realized I was having contractions, nice strong regular ones. Now, you'd think contractions would be exciting, but I was way too jaded by this point in the game to assume they were actually going to do anything useful. I waited a while before bothering to time them, but they kept right on coming every four to five minutes, even after I showered and waddled around the house for a bit. By 11 AM, two hours after they started, I decided it was a good idea to summon G home, but I fully expected they'd stop by the time he arrived. They didn't, though, so we took the hospital bag and headed toward the hospital. I called my mom on the way, who told me that she'd had a feeling it would be today, and that 9/6/06 would be a good birthday. G and I agreed, and in between contractions, we talked about what a beautiful day to have babies. After a particularly strong one, I told him I'd be damned if I was coming home without them, but internally I wasn't all that optimistic it would actually happen.
When we arrived at OB Receiving, it looked like I was right not to be optimistic. They hooked me up to the monitors, just like they'd done five or six times before, and once again, I was having nice regular contractions. However, I was still no more than 3 cm dilated, just like I'd been that weekend, and so we settled down to see how things progressed.