There are 24 hours in a day. And most days go by and nearly nothing happens in those 24 hours, or at least nothing to note. Then there are days where the minutes are packed with moments you will never forget. My wedding day was one of those, and now the day our sweet little girl came into this world. September 2, 2018, that began promptly at 12AM.

WAIT. DID I JUST PEE MYSELF?!

When you’re 10 months pregnant, this is a totally legitimate question. I woke up sometime around 12AM and laid in bed contemplating what had just happened. Was I so pregnant that I just peed myself? Considering I usually got up 3429386 times during the night to pee, this was an option to entertain. Did my water just break? Shouldn’t it be more dramatic? Aren’t I supposed to be in public and it’s a gallon of water and everyone is looking? Am I in labor?!

Since I wasn’t sure what had happened, I decided it was best to not yet wake the husband until I could rule out peeing myself, because let’s face it, with all the other embarrassing pregnancy crap that happens, I’d like to spare him of the “did I just pee myself” debate and maintain a little integrity (EDITORS NOTE: this was my thought process BEFORE labor, now I have nothing to hold back from him – he knows it all). I got up, tried to self-diagnose the situation and I came up with….. nothing. So I went back to bed or at least got into bed where I waited to see if anything else started to happen that could give me an indication if it indeed was go time. Two hours later, feeling small but consistent contractions, I finally woke the husband, casually and calm, and told him there was a good chance I was in labor but not like intense labor so not to worry and maybe I’ll just call up the OB and see what they recommend.

The doc confirmed I was most likely in labor but that with my mild contractions it would probably be a while so not to rush to the hospital until they got stronger and closer together, probably more around 8AM or so, and try to rest until then. So naturally, I didn’t rest, and took a shower at 3AM because it was my last chance to shower without a baby in my life to worry about and also probably about time I shaved my legs. Afterwards I did my best to “rest” back in bed knowing that I’d rather go through as much labor as possible in the comfort of my (parents’) home and not in a hospital.

Around 7AM after feeling my contractions getting stronger and closer together I decided it was a good idea to tell my parents that this was going down and we’d probably be leaving for the hospital soon, and that takes us to…………..

 

DUDE WHERE’S MY CAR…..

I thought that when I told my parents they would be like “ok honey, we will meet you there once you get admitted good luck” but even though it was 7AM on a Sunday my mom sprung up out of bed like she had rested a day and half and said “I’m not missing out on this”. I proceeded to double check my hospital bag and debate what to wear – bc you know, so many options at 10 months preggo – when my dad came around the corner and said “um, where is Ian’s (my husband) car?”

Now its important for me preface that my dad is a jokester. Like constantly making up the best/worst dad jokes, trolling my husband 24/7 type of person. So when he said this we collectively rolled our eyes and disregarded what seemed like another bad joke. But this time, he wasn’t joking. My husband’s car that was in the driveway along with the other 3 cars last night – was no longer there. It was stolen. That night. For us to find out the day I am in labor. I CANNOT MAKE THIS UP.

Somehow – I didn’t freak out. I was probably in shock that it had happened, today of all days, more than anything else – but I knew that we would sort it out and it seemed so trivial when I was about to bring life into this world – NBD. While my mom and I walked around my neighborhood to try and progress my labor before heading to the hospital, my husband and dad met with police officers in our driveway to report the stolen car. It was quite surreal and I’m pretty sure we all laughed at the absurdity of the situation and I contemplated whether this all looked sketch AF to the officer and he thought we were making this up and it was an inside job.

How did you start YOUR Sunday?!

Good news in the bad was that my car had the carseat so we were still good to go to take a baby home from the hospital. Phew. So after a few laps with my mom and waiting for the contractions to get more serious – we finally decided to head to the hospital.

 

IT’S A………..

The hospital admitted me right away confirming my water breaking and my contractions progressing so I went from the triage room to the second room – the labor room. I changed from the gown they had given me (holding the back together in my initial modesty which now is hilarious and quickly went out the window) into my own gown I brought (read about the other things I brought here), changed the pillow cover to my own and started taking contractions that started to make me need a distraction.

One distraction? My husband breaking the chair he was sitting in and nearly needing a hospital bed himself – something that made my mom nearly cry laughing, all while I was taking one of my worst contractions. Picture him at 6’2″ half in a chair and half laying on the ground, because that’s what happened. He was then known as “that guy who broke the chair” with all the nurses that came in that day.

I didn’t have a full birth plan necessarily, I still was undecided on an epidural because – news flash – I’ve never given birth and I had no idea what this was all going to feel like, and I wanted to experience it before deciding. I did fill out some birth plan information in preparation for the day around the same time I had packed my hospital bag that included things like who I wanted in the room, that I wanted to be able to play my own music, I wanted to understand natural pain management options, I wanted to use a birthing ball, and some other details that certainly helped my nurse better understand my vibes without me having to tell her – in a time when speaking long sentences was getting tough between contractions.

I had made two playlists for my labor experience (a calming one and a pump up one) both of which I completely abandoned once we got there. Instead my mom scanned through her Pandora making me cry when John Mayer’s “daughters” came on (hindsight this song coming on is a total JESUS moment) until I complained enough about my unstable emotional state and her music selection for her to finally put Justin Timberlake on. As my contractions started getting stronger I opted to get out of bed since laying down seemed to give me no way of really dealing with them. The hospital had a birthing ball and I used that for the majority of the time while also desperately trying some standing/leaning positions to make the waves of contractions easier to handle.

After hours of trying it naturally and finally getting to the point where I felt like I couldn’t breath, and still needing to dilate quite a bit, I decided to get an epidural. I have to admit that asking for the epidural felt like defeat at first, I had really wanted to try it natural – but I knew I had given it my best and lasted a while – which was confirmed by all the nurses that came in and out of the room that day and told me I was taking strong contractions like a champ, and the nurse that admitted me at 9AM and came in when I was getting the epidural around 3PM and said “you’re just now getting this thing?!”. So yeah, I’m not Wonder Woman but I’ll take it. And now, for the rest of my kids, I’ll be getting the epidural in the drive through lane of the hospital upon arrival.

After getting the epidural, literally minutes and only a few more contractions later, I felt human again. My nurse gave me the “peanut” which is basically a large peanut ball shaped thing that you put between your legs that helps you dilate and we were in business to get this thing going (really liked this thing). I could still feel contractions coming though they were not as painful as before, which my sister/nurse/mommy extraordinaire told me was good and that I shouldn’t increase my epidural dose because feeling them would help when I needed to push later.  Around 6:30PM I basically told them I needed to push and wasn’t going to have an option soon – and they got my doctor to get the show on the road.

And of course in the theme of strange things going wrong/happening that day (car stolen, husband breaking a chair), when they went to turn on the labor lights in the room to actually see what they were doing (I hear this is important) they didn’t work. Because chivalry isn’t dead, my husband offered up his iPhone flashlight and lighting expertise, to which the doctor politely declined.

An emergency light situation and a few pushes later, they told me the head was out – which I’m pretty sure they said to reassure me – which had the exact opposite effect and made me begin pushing as fast and hard as I could. A few seconds later my husband very confusingly said “It’s a……….girl?”, they held her up and handed her off to me and I reached for her like it was the most natural thing in the world for me to do. I laid her on my chest and began sobbing like I had never sobbed before. She was ours and she was healthy and she was perfect and of course all along this little baby was a not the boy everyone had insisted it was but a little girl. Our sweet little girl, Parker Elle Scott.

 

MY FAVORITE PIZZA PARTY

The love you immediately feel for your baby is just as strong, overwhelming and cliche as everyone says. I was so happy to see that despite not having to carry her around in his own stomach for 10 months, my husband too had immediately fallen in love with our sweet babygirl. I insisted that he did skin to skin shortly after I had enjoyed that time of my own and my heart melted more than I could have imagined witnessing it.

We hung out in the labor room while things got situated in the “situation” and I had to wait out the epidural wearing off bc apparently your legs don’t work at all for a while after – something I learned when we went to test out the ol’ noodles and I nearly fell on the floor.

We had intimate family visitors to meet the babe that night – we enforced a policy that only my husband and I would hold her that night – call us awful it was just what we wanted and guess what – after you grow and birth a baby you get to say what happens with that baby. After what felt like forever – probably around 9PM I was finally able to use my legs enough to get into a wheelchair and we got to settle in to our third and final room. At this point I was in a state of – well the word probably doesn’t exist but something between feeling massively overwhelmed, in love, in euphoria, exhausted, and HUNGRY. Like I haven’t eaten in nearly 24 hours hungry. We ordered pizza because that was basically the only thing open and delivering at that time and had a pizza party for our new family of three that I will never forget.

 

 

The irony is certainly not lost on me that I went into labor on Labor Day weekend. My type A personality is pretty pleased with that.

 

XO,

JESS