Lil Spits' Birth Story

Lil Spits is six months old. You heard me. My baby is six months old. And even though I have told lots of people her birth story, I haven't written it down in detail. So, here ya go, future posterity. I'm doing my family history work today.

Tina had been born 5 weeks premature, so we were not sure when to expect Lil Spits' grand arrival. Our doctor didn't seem too concerned, but he finally said he expected me to deliver at about 37 weeks just to shut me up. He hit it right on the nose.

Early on the morning of January 26, 2016 (01/26/2016! What a cool birthday) I woke up feeling the faintest of contractions. They were almost unnoticeable. My first thought was, "We're having a baby today." 

I spent the rest of the day convincing myself otherwise.

The rest of the morning seemed okay. I was having contractions, but I went to the internet, because everything you read on the internet is true. I wasn't convinced that I was having real contractions. They weren't spaced evenly apart and they weren't consistent lengths of time. WebMD (that blessed site that makes you think you have cancer and a goiter at the same time when you really just have seasonal allergies) said that I was having false labor and I totally believed it. Only I couldn't even finish folding a basket of laundry because I was so uncomfortable.

I decided to take it easy, log my contractions, and just hang out on the couch that day. My rockstar upstairs neighbor brought her little boy down to play with Tina and we had a great time, only I had to keep stopping in the middle of our conversation to breathe through my cramps. I kept saying, "Man, these Braxton Hicks really hurt!" Rockstar neighbor left a little while later, and Spouse Unit came home for lunch.

By the time he was getting ready to go to back to work I was in tears from the discomfort. "Are you sure you're okay for me to go back to work?" he asked. He was concerned. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm great. I'll be fine," I said, through my sobs. "I'm just going to call my doctor and see if I can get some pain meds for these dang Braxton Hicks, maybe get checked to see if I've dilated any. I don't think I can wait until my appointment tomorrow." "Okay..." He said, not convinced, "call me if you need me to come home."

So off to work he went, I called my doctor's office and asked if I could come in, get checked, and get some pain killers. I was breathing heavily and crying on the phone and they asked if I could talk through my contractions. "I'm trying to," I gasped. "Is there anything I can do to get them to stop?" The lady told me to drink some water and switch positions once they started back up and they should be able to stop if they were, indeed, Braxton Hicks.

I set up an appointment at 4 o'clock with the doctor, which gave me a little bit of time to pull my crap together. The lady called me back immediately and said, "You know, if you're in a lot of pain you could probably just head straight to the hospital and they can take care of you." I was still in denial. "Nah! I'm good!" *whimper, whimper* "I'm just going to come in and get checked."

"Okay..." She said, not convinced. Why was everybody saying that!?

I called Spouse Unit and told him to come home so he could take me to the doctor's office. I didn't think I could drive. In the meantime, I had read on the Interwebs that if you sit in a warm bath it will stop Braxton Hicks contractions. What it didn't say in the article but should have said was that if you're in real-life actual labor, getting in the tub is going to speed up your contractions quite significantly.

I hopped in the tub and BOOM! Instant relief for about ten glorious minutes. As soon as I got out... BOOM!!! INSTANT PAIN EVERY THREE MINUTES!!! It was radiating like a freight train down my lower back and my thighs. I was trying so hard not to scream, but I couldn't help it. Tina was freaked out because her mom sounded like a wild animal being forced into a tutu, but once she saw I was crying she ran over to me and started wiping my tears. It was the sweetest moment and one that I will always remember.

Super Spouse Unit burst through the door, looking like a hot handyman (because that's what he is) and immediately went upstairs to alert the rockstar neighbors. He very smartly ignored my pleas to stop packing our bags because "we were just going to get checked and coming RIGHT BACK" and took care of everything. I was uncontrollably moaning and blubbering while my neighbor just sat and watched the whole ordeal. I'm sure she was horrified and embarrassed for me, I know I was. She took Tina, and the carseat, and the bags that we had prepared beforehand but left all of the important stuff out of because they were things we used every day.

We said, "seeyabye" to Tina and headed to the doctor's office. Well, we tried to. Remember how I said this was in January? Our car wouldn't start. The engine wouldn't turn over because it was too cold. So we said a prayer and it was answered after a few more tries. We pulled into the parking lot and I stopped to have a real quick brain-melting contraction before heading in.

I went to the desk to check in and the receptionist said, "Are you the one that's in labor?" I was forced to admit what I had been denying all day. "Yes!" I yelled in her face. "Are ya happy!? You got me to admit it!" I didn't actually do that, but I wanted to. I said "yes, that's me" like a tactful human being and sat down with my husband. I was trying so hard to keep it together because I didn't want to freak out all the other pregnant ladies in the waiting room. I kept my whimpering to a minimum and every time a contraction hit I gritted my teeth and kept it to myself. Spouse Unit said, "I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be here... everyone else seems too calm." At that moment, I was ushered into an examination room and the doctor on call came in while I was having another contraction.

"I'll wait," he chuckled. "We don't believe in cruel and unusual punishment." I climbed up on the examination table and he checked me. "Well, it's hard to tell because your water bag is bulging out so far, but I think you're at about a 7." WHAT!? I had done that all by myself all day!? We high-tailed it outta that joint and I said, "I want my epidural STAT."

Spouse Unit helped me into the car, it started (thankfully) and we drove a half a block to the hospital. When we arrived it was like a scene from a medical soap opera. Everybody was rushing around me like crazy and trying to get me hooked up to this and that and I got checked again. The nurse said I was at a 9! And my water still hadn't broken! This turned out to be a huge blessing because I had tested positive for Hepatitis B and it minimized my baby's exposure to it. I was also supposed to be on antibiotics for like, two hours before I started to push, but obviously that didn't happen.

We had a bunch of random people in the room just staring at me, so I joked, "Man we've got quite a party going on in here!" They then explained to me that they were there to observe because "nobody comes in this late in the game! This is exciting!"

Spouse Unit had time to call his parents to tell them to pick up Tina, and then called my mom. He had only been on the phone with her for about 30 seconds when the nurse said, "Sir, you need to get off the phone. Your wife is having a baby." We didn't get to call anybody else we were planning on calling, like my dad, our siblings, etc.  This was it.

They called my doctor and he just happened to be driving past the hospital at that exact moment, so he came right in. The nurse came over and said, "Here's the deal. Your water is still intact so we can give you an epidural, or we can break your water, you can push a few times and she'll be here." Tempting. What would you have done?

I asked how long it would take for an epidural to kick in.

"Twenty minutes."

"Could I have a baby in twenty minutes without it?"

"Yes."

"Let's do this."

Spouse Unit was nervous for me since we hadn't planned on going natural, but was supportive. He's a great birth coach, a trooper, and he kept the ice chips a-comin'.

They broke my water and I started pushing. After twenty minutes the baby wasn't there. Darn. I had to keep pushing and making wild-animal-tutu noises. They checked where she was and said that her face was facing the wrong direction. That's why she wasn't coming out even though she was head down. On the next contraction they rotated her and I screamed the most blood-curdling scream of my whole life. I'm sure my neighbors in the rooms around me were loving it. Not.

The screaming continued right into Spouse Unit's good ear (he can't hear out of the other one, and I'm surprised that I didn't deafen him) for the next few minutes, but at least we were making progress. I could tell because the pain was getting worse. They saw the head, then I did one more big scream and push and boom, baby! She was out. I was crying so hard, and it wasn't because she was finally here and I was happy. I was crying, "ow.... ow... owww...."

Anyway, they numbed me up (praise the heavens), told me I had done a great job, like a pioneer woman (yesss), and handed me my beautiful baby girl. In that moment it was all so worth it. Then I said, "I'm not having another baby for a loooong time."

The last six months with this little gal have been so great. I'm happy she's in our family. She's just like a big happy ray of sunshine and I can't stop kissing her little face.

Happy halvsies, Lil Spits. We love you!


Moral of the story: Don't be stupid like me. If you're in pain, call your doctor instead of looking up symptoms of false labor on the internet. Also, epidurals are great. I would recommend them.

Thanks for reading, hasta la pasta ya'll.