Story Time.

Many of you lovely ladies have asked... so, whats the story?
Now that my brain is functioning a little better, I can tell you. :)

On Sunday, February 21, I had to leave church because my blood sugars were going crazy. When I got home, I started to have mild irregular contractions.

On Monday, February 22, over the course of the day, they started to get more regular and more painful. On Monday evening, I called the doctor and he asked me to come to the hospital. I went, and he hooked me up to the monitor, and we waited. And waited. And waited. And while the contractions were regular, no progress was being made. So, he sent me home for rest (ha!) and said to come back if they got worse or come to the office on Thursday for a followup.

I went home and slept and walked and took hot showers and waited, and the mild contractions persisted. Sometimes they were regular and sometimes they weren't.

By Wednesday, I was getting over the resting at home and waiting to go into labor thing, and I decided to get out of the house to do a few things. So, I took Savannah to the mall. She played with the trains in Barnes and Noble (great free activity for toddlers!), we got cookies, and we walked the mall a few times. We left and when we got home, Savannah went down for a nap. I also rested because I didn't feel so good after the morning activity. When Darren got home, I told him I thought the contractions were getting worse and that I wanted to get a pedicure (hey... if you're about to spend the next few hours looking at your toes, they should look good!), so he said he would take Savannah to church with him and I could do what I wanted. Not long after they left, I realized I needed to call the doctor. So, I did, and he told me that he "really doubted" that I was going to have a baby that night but if I wanted to, I could come in to be checked.

Well, I was conflicted about what to do. If I went, and they sent me home again, it would inconvenience everyone. If I stayed home, and the baby was really coming, I might be one of those scary stories. Having a baby in the living room? Uhm, no thank you.

So, I made dinner and we ate when they got home, and I told Darren I might should go to the hospital. We discussed the options, and I decided to DRIVE MYSELF. I type that in all caps because thats how my mother says it when she tells this story. That way, I would either be admitted if necessary, or be sent home to sleep with some peace of mind.

When I got to the hospital, I was sent to triage. The nurse hooked me up to the monitor and said, "Oh my! You are having some pretty good contractions in a labor pattern. I'm going to call your doctor." So my doctor arrived and checked and declared that I was 4 cm dilated and going to be admitted to have a baby.

I called my mother, who was slightly angry at me for driving, yet quickly converted her anger to excitement. Then I called a very sleepy Darren and asked him to wake up and pack a suitcase. (Why did I call him second? Well, because it took me four attempts by phone to wake him up.)

I was admitted at 1:20am on Thursday, February 25th. I did a lot more walking, eating ice chips (why does the hospital have the best ice ever?), and breathing. I made it until 5:15 am (and 7 cm) without an epidural, and then I decided it was time for pain relief. [It would have been awesome if the hospital didn't have three sets of twins delivered that night and the anesthesiologist hadn't been tied up.] By the time the epidural was placed, it didn't work well and only took on one side. That was quite unfortunate as I'm not a huge fan of pain or doing things the hard way. I do believe, however, that I survived until about 7:15 am before I started to yell (quite an accomplishment in my book), and around 7:40 am I claimed that I might not survive. The kind nurse assured me that not only was I surviving, but that she was getting the doctor right that second because Brooklyn was making her appearance. I believe I told her to pass along the message that he better be running back to my room. She thought that was funny. The doctor arrived, and after 10 minutes of pushing (through three contractions), Brooklyn arrived at 8:03 am.

And my life will never be the same.

So thats my story!