Well, it just figures that I would be completely wrong in my predictions of when Little Mack would make her appearance into this world. But who knew I would be THAT far off? I fully expected her to be a week or two late in an effort to show her stubbornness. This is still her way of telling us that she, indeed, is the boss.
So let’s take it back to Sunday, April 12. Picture it: We are wrapping things up at my sister-in-law’s bridal shower at a fancy banquet hall. No one will let me help bring packages out to the cars or do anything or importance to help (this is something I hated about pregnancy). So, I made my rounds talking to the other people who couldn’t physically help clean up. Specifically, I was talking to Grandma (my husband’s grandma, but I still love her as I do my own grandma, so she gets the title). She was sitting, and I was standing, getting restless. I laughed about something (a good, hearty laugh), and then I felt something. Something strange. A mix between, “Oh shit, I just pissed my pants” and “Oh wait, I felt like I just got my period? What the fuck?” so in the middle of our conversation, I quickly excused myself and ran to the closest bathroom.
Conclusion: Hmmm, looked like just a lot of discharge, but very watery. What the hell?! I did read that this was supposed to happen more near the end, as your cervix getting itself ready and shedding some lining, or something close to that. So we’ll go with that for now.
Made my way back to the banquet hall room and as I’m walking there, I feel another surge (I didn’t even laugh to trigger anything!), so this continued to happen until we all finally left. I probably visited the bathroom 5 more times in the next 10 minutes to clean up. Still not knowing what it was, I decide to drive home (this is specifically what we learned NOT to do in the birthing class we literally took the day before). As we’re walking out the door, I feel yet another surge and go to walk back into the hall, but they had already locked the building. Assholes! As I’m standing there, I’m debating how I’m going to keep Mike’s brand new Charger clean from whatever fluid was leaking out of me. So I empty my purse (linen) and sit on it as I drive off.
At this point, I hadn’t said anything to anyone about thinking that my water had broken. I did ask two people, including my mother-in-law, whether or not their’s had broken on their own, or if it broke after they starting having contractions/ got to the hospital. No one was any help in this department, so I kept referring to the conversation that we had in birthing class THE DAY BEFORE and what I had talked to my doctor about just three days before that.
My doctor talked to me about how many women go to the ER thinking that their water had broken, when, in reality, they had simply pissed themselves. She did say, however, that it is always a good idea to come in even if I wasn’t sure, because if my water had indeed broken, that means the birth canal is open, and I wouldn’t want anything to get in there, plus it meant contractions would likely be starting soon. I didn’t want to be the girl who just peed herself hanging out in the labor and delivery ward (yet another reason why I told no one at the shower that my water had broken – in addition to not wanting to steal the spotlight from my sister-in-law on her big day).
Going back to what we learned in birthing class, the instructor gave us some ridiculous statistic of how many women actually have their water break on its own. It something like 10 or 20% I think. So basically, it probably won’t happen to you, so if you think it has, you probably pissed yourself.
All that being said, I made my way home to my husband, who had been working on cleaning the house and putting more baby equipment together the whole day. I went back and forth about telling him what my instinct was. Then he mentioned that he needed to go to Target to get some batteries for the baby swing and something else I can’t remember. I was like, “Yeah! Let’s go to Target!” I thought I had stopped leaking at this point, so I did then tell him my fear, but that I was pretty sure I was fine now. I just told him I was going to lay down after the Target trip so he didn’t try to put me to work cleaning something else 🙂 He did tell me to call the doctor. I told him I would after Target, and not to worry (me putting off the inevitable because I was terrified that I was going to be forced to deliver a baby I had not fully prepared myself for yet – no joke, I think I did maybe a total of 3 kegel exercises during my pregnancy and kept telling myself, “next month I’ll really get going”).
So to Target we went! Walking around, looking at stuff I don’t need, and then, of course, I started leaking again! Don’t worry friends, I didn’t leak all over the floor at Target. It’s not like a faucet. I’m much more considerate than that. So I felt the leak a few more times as we are standing in line to check out. Mike asks if I want Starbucks (there is a Starbucks in our Target). Now, here is a fine example of my priorities. In my head, I’m thinking, I could really use a Happy Birthday Frappuccino (vanilla and hazelnut frap – AMAZING). Then, as I observed the line forming of dumb little teenagers, I decided I had better make the right decision and call my doctor. I told Mike I would be out in the car calling the doctor to see what she says. I think he was surprised I was passing up Starbucks, and this probably made him nervous to think that he might be a father in the very near future.
So I called the doctor’s office and had the nurse page her. The nurse told me something I did not want to hear.
“The Doctor said you should come into Labor and Delivery at the hospital to be tested as to whether or not you are actually leaking amniotic fluid”
Okay, great. I don’t know what I thought they were going to tell me…maybe ask a few questions about what I’m seeing and describe the amount, blah blah. Ugh.
So Mike gets in the car and asked what they said. I didn’t tell him right away. I wanted to get home and pack a bag (oh yeah, didn’t do THAT either), and try to clean up some stuff so Mike wouldn’t want to murder me if I ended up having to check into the hospital and he needed to bring me more things that he couldn’t find because of how unorganized my drawers are. So I pack my minimalist bag and say, “Okay, the doctor wants me to come in to be checked”….
So off we went to the hospital. We didn’t say much on the drive, and I almost started crying a few times because this could just NOT be go-time. We were both nervous. It just couldn’t be. So many things left undone. Baby still needed to hang out for another month. Pre-term labor is considered anything before 37 weeks. I was at 36. Does this mean they would keep us in the hospital longer? What if she has complications? Maybe they would let me go home if I wasn’t having contractions? What if they don’t let me eat after I get there? Should I make Mike stop at McDonald’s? I know, priorities!
Stay tuned – Little Mack is starting to wake up.