I was caring for a 7 month old baby, planning a wedding and interviewing for a full time position when it happened…
One silly weekend, cue the crazy lunatic spewing emotional vomit all over her baby daddy, telling him to just leave and see other women, because that’s what he would rather do. His response was immediately, “Babe, you should take a pregnancy test”!
How dare him! These were legitimate feelings and making another baby already was impossible, right!?!! Granted my husband and I have always had a pretty healthy sex life, and I breastfed for 6 months, we didn’t even think baby number 1 could or would happen and I hadn’t even gotten my period back yet from the first pregnancy, duhhh! It was impossible!
So the next morning I woke up, took a pregnancy test (properly, cause I was an experienced pregnancy test taker at this point in my life), glared at that beautifully bright and vibrant plus sign, brought it to the living room and threw it at my husband and told him to take it to his doctor who said he’d probably never have kids!
For the rest of that day: I took the phone call that I was the successful candidate for the full time position at work, did the math on when I needed to go back to work just to be off again, did the math on how pregnant/ how old my newborn was going to be at my wedding, googled tips for 2 under 2, googled if wine delivery services were a thing, googled drinking in the early stages of pregnancy since who knew how far along I was, Etc. Etc. Etc! To be frank….it was a happy disaster!
My viewpoint in life has always been what will be, will be! No point in freaking out about it because this is what has been dealt. We were just going to roll with it.
Pregnant, working, planning a wedding and caring for an 8, 9, 10 month old was not my cup of tea. It was exhausting! And as I fell more in love with baby number 1 every day, I kept wondering how I was ever going to love another human just as much. I already had my baby! And what was he/she going to look like? We already made a baby of our own. It was strange but exciting.
Finally, it was time. At 39 weeks, I was measuring 44 weeks (picture a whale). I was given the decision whether to get induced or wait it out over the next week or two. Ummmm, I beg your pardon?!? You’re telling a 39 week pregnant whale that if she would like, they’d just start the process of getting this baby out! ………yes please! Despite weighing out the “What could go wrongs?”, we went through with it! My absolute nightmare was ending up on the cutting table and if that were to happen, I would instantly regret this decision! Guess what happened?!?!?!
The next morning, I met back at the hospital with my midwife so she could insert the Foley catheter to help put my body into labour regardless of what baby had planned. Baby was so nice and comfy up in there and I’ve never been one to cater to my children (unless it’s a losing battle) therefore, I was taking control of this situation. This type of slow induction is basically a catheter that they insert into the vagina, then fill up a balloon with water to put pressure on the cervix. Super natural ✌️
When I got home, I knew I made a mistake. Oh my gosh, the pain! Think of the worst period cramps you’ve ever had and times it by 2….and I was not even in labour yet. So I just laid in bed and tried to get some sleep (LOL). The next morning we met back at the hospital so I could be checked and sure enough that little water balloon did it’s job (I could’ve told them that by the pain I was in but who listens to the crazy pregnant lady in the bed).
This is where it gets exciting, the doctor every woman dreams of! Side note: Midwives are fully trained professionals in every aspect of pregnancy, delivery and caring for a new born. They know the in’s and outs (literally) of women’s bodies and babies. They take on a partnership with a doctor if things become medically necessary……like breaking the water sac! This was our case. My midwife pre-warned my husband and I about this knuckle-head we were about to meet and assured me we’d get through this together. So mister jumbo sausage fingers entered the room with the mechanism in hand used for breaking ones water!
I was more concerned about this guys weapon of choice he was going to use to break my water, but my husband was definitely more concerned about the size of this guys hands, who was going to be checking me LOTS over the next 24 hours! Guy mind, right!?!? I was going to be attempting to push out a 9lb baby but let’s focus on this male doctors fingers!
Sure enough, Dr. Sausage fingers broke my water, which was every bit as disgusting as you’d imagine! At least I didn’t have to google it because I knew this was the “gush” that was supposed to happen! (Later we would find out that, he did indeed, use baby number 2’s head as the ending point of poking the water sac. However, Baby number 2’s head will be discussed in further detail later.)
I was finally contracting like I was supposed to be, everything was doing what it was supposed to be, except for baby number 2. He was just as cool as a cucumber, not moving a muscle. I had several checks by Dr. Sausage fingers, even after he returned back to the hospital on his Harley, which I only assume, as at one point, he entered the room with his motorcycle helmet in hand and biker boots stomping the floor. After every check, he’d have the same disappointing look that we were wasting his time because I was not moving very far along.
After 24 hours of this, a couple hours of attempted pushing, my midwife calling in her secondary because she had another birth right before mine and she was now physically exhausted, Dr. Sausage fingers entered the room one last time and this time, it was bad news. As he so eloquently put it, the baby was not coming out of my vagina, he was cutting it out of my belly!
Insert the madness, chaos, tears and anger flooding in! I cried, my midwife cried, my husband was overwhelmed! How was he going to take care of a 16 month old, a new born and a mommy who can’t lift anything including the toddler or drive for 6 weeks and passes out when she gets her nose pierced… oh, and he had to wake up at 4am to go to work. He was slowly spinning out of control! (I was the one about to get cut open but, guy mind, right?!?)
So as I laid on the cutting table, being prepped for surgery and waiting for my husband to be allowed in, all I could think about was which doctors and nurses above me were hooking up in the on-call rooms right before this C-section. I also wondered at any minute, if McSteamy or McDreamy were going to show up with their rehearsed words of confidence and wisdom!