On Monday morning, at 3:40 am, my water broke.  It was the weirdest feeling, if you’ve never experienced it.  There was literally a *pop* sensation and a gush.  A very large, seemingly neverending gush.  Those who confuse wetting themselves with their water breaking probably just wet themselves. 

AH called Labour & Delivery while I sat on the pot as water kept coming.  I wasn’t having any contractions or pain and the water was clear, so they told us to wait until morning to come in.  So that’s what we planned on doing, all the while trying to dry the mattress with towels and hair dryers and re-making the bed with new, un-soiled sheets.

Contractions started at about 5ish, so we called AH’s mom to come to the house so Eirinn could keep sleeping (I don’t know how she could sleep at a time like this…).  My parents had already been called because they needed 2 hours driving time heads up.  By the time his mom arrived, the contractions were getting pretty strong, so on the way to the hospital, we used the speed limit as a suggestion, only.  Oh, and we stopped at the bank first.  Might as well get some business done while we’re out.  We don’t get out without Eirinn much, so we took advantage and it was a little early in the morning for a movie.

We got to the hospital at 6:30 and I was 3-4 cms dilated, 75% effaced.  The nurse ran down the list of pain management options, and as the contractions were getting a little intense, I opted for a shot of Gravol (I was also feeling like I was going to make sick) and a shot of Morphine to take the edge off.

The nurse checked me again at 10:00 and I was 7 cms dilated and excruciatingly uncomfortable.  She called my doctor, who told her to call him again when I was 8 and he’d come in time for delivery. 

The contractions were getting unmanageable and one on top of the other, so after a long inner debate, I told AH that I thought I needed an epidural.  He didn’t know, because I didn’t tell him, but that was one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make.  I was mentally set on going just as natural as I had with Eirinn (despite the induction, I only had one shot of Morphine with her).  I was extremely disappointed with myself that I couldn’t tough this one out like I had before.

AH went to the nurses station and told them I wanted an epidural.  Apparently, this is code word for “By God, she’s having the baby NOW!” so my doctor was called right away and the nurse got someone to start the fluids.  I say “someone” because I’m pretty sure a nurse could start fluids without, and I quote, “blowing the vein”, resulting in a puddle of blood on the floor that AH got to stand in during pushing.  Anyway, that was neither here nor there, because as I was bleeding to death (not really, just a little bitter sarcasm) I whispered to AH that I was pretty sure I should be pushing.  The nurse (the real one, not the vein butcher) checked me again (this was about 10 minutes after being checked at 7cms) and she said the head was right there.

The on-call doctor was paged and I started pushing.  He had some kid with him, like some 15 year old Doogie Howser, M.D. or something.  Maybe it was Bring Your Kid To Work Day, I don’t know.  Anyway, this kid did a lot of the stuff down there, but I wasn’t in a position to care.  I pushed through 4 or 5 contractions and on my last push, my doctor came flying through the door, shoved his hands in some gloves, got right on the bed, perpendicular to me, and out she came at 10:36 am.

For the record, that was 4 hours of active labour, no epidural, 10 minutes of pushing (5 in total), only one stitch internally, which was done by the on-call doctor (what was his name, anyway?) and my doctor said it wasn’t necessary afterall.  8 lbs 15 oz, 22 inches (which is exactly 2 full pounds heavier than Eirinn and almost 3 inches longer), and I’m done.  Like done for good.  It was fast and furious, but Good Lord, the whole “getting the baby outta there” business hurts like the Dickens.

I went home after 24 hours because staying at the hospital sucks.  The food is gross and usually cold (unless it’s supposed to be cold; in that case it’s warm), the bed is so uncomfortable I might as well have been sleeping on the lanolium floor, and the random nurses prodding at my baby and touching my boobs, makes the hospital a not-nice place.

HOWEVER, Avery slept like an angel at the hospital.  Last night?  Not so much. 

But, when I look at that face, I can’t stay mad for long.

Avery Quinn arrived yesterday morning at 10:36 a.m.  She was much larger than I expected, at 8 lbs 15 oz and 22″.  She has dark, straight hair, the opposite of her big sister’s light, curly hair, and her eyes are still the uncommitted baby blue-gray.

She lost some weight before we left the hospital, but is still strong like bull.

I will post pictures when I get them uploaded and I’ll give you all the labour and delivery details when I’ve rested up.  I’ll warn you; there might be more than a few people who hate me out of pure jealousy after they read it.

I haven’t had the baby yet.  My doctor goes on vacation beginning July 5th and the way things are going that means I won’t get to have him deliver.  It would have been nice to have not only someone I’m comfortable with and know and who knows me and my history (not that there’s anything complicated to know), but also the same doctor who delivered Eirinn.  But at this point, I’ll just be glad when the baby is born (healthy, of course).  I’ve tried begging, pleading, praying, more begging, and this darn kid seems like she’s in there for good.

Also, if I don’t have this baby soon, I’m going to blimp up like…a blimp.  Apparently, unbeknownst to me, I have no self control.  For lunch on Monday I had two peanut butter cookies and an ice cream bar.  Tuesday was McDonalds.  Yesterday was healthy, but that was only because my mom packed the picnic lunch.  If it were up to me it would have been cookies again.

I’ve been reacquainting myself with stay-at-home parenthood.  Not that we’ve done much “staying at home”.  I think if I stayed at home all day everyday, I’d lose my mind.  And Eirinn would turn into the Hulk with the fury and the tantrums and the gross misconduct.  We need time (and lots of it) out of the house to stabilize her mood swings.  And it’s also a challenge to find activities that are fun for toddlers and that a woman carrying around a very large, painful belly which is getting extremely difficult to maneuver, what with the sciatic pain and the “down there” pressure and the complete lack of energy can handle.

Monday and Tuesday we spent the mornings shopping (in toy departments, so it was fun for her, too) and the afternoons napping (both of us).  Yesterday, after a terrible, horrible early morning spent with the Hulk, we went to a park with a creek and a splash pad and had a picnic for lunch.  This was more fun than the Hulk could handle and we got our Eirinn back.

Today, we planned on going on a long (labour-inducing, perhaps?) walk, but the weather doesn’t look like it wants to participate.  Or maybe a walk in the rain with our slickers and rain boots is fun too?  We’ll see, because staying at home all day isn’t an option. 

I’m in it to survive, people, not excel.  And survival involves vacating the premises, rain or shine.