Let's start at the beginning. Broccoli has not been my friend since I've been pregnant. After eating some at school one day I paid for it later that night. Nothing gross, just HORRIBLE pains and cramping- like I was being stabbed. (Not that I would know what being stabbed feels like, but I can imagine it isn't too pleasant - much like this sensation) Now, knowing this about myself, you would think I would avoid the veggie like the plague, but alas, I'm not that smart. Or don't possess that much self control. Its a toss up.
Friday night it was wet, rainy, and cold. Perfect night for soup. Low and behold my sweet mother had stocked our fridge, and, glaring at me from shelf, was a big package of Panera Bread broccoli and cheese soup. Perfect! Then, I remembered that broccoli is the devil. Should I or shouldn't I? The craving won out and I popped that bad boy in the microwave.
Later that night I paid. Big time. By 11pm I was in so much pain I was getting dizzy. The sharp, stabbing pains returned as before, and I was almost in tears. Greyson was also partaking in some sort of Cirque du Soleil routine which didn't help matters at all. When you are dealing with extreme cramping and sharp pains, the last thing you need is someone kicking and punching you in the stomach. When I laid down and began groaning Adam became super concerned. He saw the baby frantically bouncing around and, paired with his wife 2 seconds from tears, reached for the phone to call the doctor. They suggested I go to labor and delivery just to make sure everything was ok.
My mind flashed back to Father of the Bride and I refused. These were not labor pains. This was, well, I'll just put it plainly... gas. I was having one of the worst episodes of gas pains in the history of the world and I was not about to drag myself and husband out in the middle of the night to have a nurse laugh and tell me that. Well, that, and I was in so much pain there was no way I was moving. I told Adam we just needed to wait a while and see what happens.
As I laid on the bed and the pain subsided ever so slightly, I felt it. The first contraction. A few minutes later another. Oh my goodness... I had
At 1am we were wheeling out of the driveway hoping this was the real deal. I know Adam had his doubts, but I wasn't about to wait around at home and find out. With a three year old to worry about, the last thing I wanted was to wait around, not be able to reach anyone to come over, and give birth on my kitchen floor. This happened to a friend of a friend. This kid's nickname is linoleum Lucy now. Not cool.
Upon arriving at the hospital we got checked into triage and hooked up to the monitors. The contractions had now increased to 2-3 minutes apart. She checked me at we were 3 cm and 75%. After monitoring me about 45 minutes with no increase in contraction intensity, the doctor suggested I walk for an hour to see if we could make any progress. Walking around an empty hospital at 3am wasn't the most fun I'd ever ha,d but I would do anything at this point to make this baby come out! At 4am we returned to our room and the nurse checked me again. Still at 3cm and only slightly more effaced at 80%. In addition, my contractions had begun to slow down and I was now facing the embarrassment of being sent home empty handed.
At 5:30 am we pulled back into the driveway - sans baby.
I suppose next time I will know when it really is go time. Either that or my child will be nicknamed "homebirth homeboy", cause I am sure as heck not leaving house for another false alarm!!
