I have three children.
The first two were born healthy and strong after scheduled inductions. By the time pregnancy number three rolled around, I was perfectly at ease with my doctor giving Mother Nature a little nudge and scheduling another induction for the third baby.
Apparently I run a cozy bed and breakfast inside my womb.
The little visitors never want to leave. We were living in South Alabama and my doctor’s practice was in Montgomery, which was about an hour and a half drive from my home. My mother delivered two children in Montgomery, as did many friends of mine. Making it to the hospital without birthing a baby in the car was never a fear of mine—especially since I’d been induced twice before.
My husband was returning home from working 28 days in Guyana and had 28 days until he had to report back to work. He was coming home on a Thursday, so we scheduled an induction for Sunday. My inlaws were coming to my house Sunday afternoon and were going to stay with my other two sons. My husband and I were going to drive up to Montgomery, have a nice meal, and check into the hospital. Or so I thought.
I’ve never professed to being Super Mom or Super Wife, so my house and personal grooming were sometimes a little lacking in the show department while my husband was away at work for a month at a time. Plus, throw in 9 months of pregnancy with two other boys at home and I was tired. Needless to say, I had a lot of things planned on that Thursday.
I experienced strong Braxton Hicks contractions toward the end of my first two pregnancies and this one hadn’t been any different. Wednesday night, I had noticed they seemed a little stronger, but I had been busy and was tired, so I chalked it up to that.
Thursday morning, I woke early and thought that maybe my water had broken just a little bit.
But then again, third pregnancy, nine months in, it could have been a Depends moment. A friend of mine had texted me to see how I was doing and I mentioned to her what had just happened. Naturally, she freaked out and told me I needed to get on the road to Montgomery. I informed her that:
“I’m not having a baby today. Will [my husband] is coming home and I have things to do.”
Thank you very much, I had no time for this baby on Thursday. He was coming on Sunday.
Obviously, I was freaking insane in the mombrain!
I repeated the same line about being busy to her and several others throughout the morning. Little did I know that she had the good sense to call my mother in law and mother and tell them that I had flipped my lid over on the other side of town and needed an intervention.
I drove my oldest son to school while he, the 15 month old, and I jammed out to Uptown Funk amidst those annoying Braxton Hicks contractions that were getting stronger. But…
“I’m not having a baby today. Will is coming home and I have things to do.”
And apparently dancing it out to Uptown Funk was number one on the list.
The 15 month old and I got back home and my mother in law came by to take him to Mother’s Day Out for me. My mother called and informed me that she was coming to pick me up and drive me to Montgomery.
“Mother,” I told her, “I’m not having a baby today. Will is coming home and I have things to do.”
But I got in the car anyway.
All the way to Montgomery, my mother had to listen to me repeating that idiotic line over and over again and also, “I’m not in labor. I just need to poop.” As most of you have probably experienced, one of the joys of pregnancy is irregularity. I was convinced that a strong cup of coffee was going to be the cure to all of my troubles.
During all of this, my husband was on a plane from Guyana to Trinidad, and then on a plane from Trinidad to Miami. He had not packed his phone charger and his phone had died sometime during the night in the Guyana airport. I have a tendency to avoid reality (I’m sure more posts will be written around that theme) and the fact that he wasn’t reachable was further confirmation for me that baby wasn’t coming.
We made it to Montgomery with no coffee or bathroom breaks, so I was ready to get down to business. I was admitted to triage and low and behold, I was seven centimeters dilated. It took a few minutes for that to sink in and when it did, I began to try to call my husband. No answer. I then called the girlfriend of a guy who was traveling with him and told her calmly to please have him call me when he had a chance.
He called about 20 minutes later.
“Hey Baby! What are you doing?”
“Ahem, well, I’m in Montgomery and we are about to have a baby.”
It was at this moment that I realized I had to stay calm for his sake. I told him not to worry about it and that this wasn’t my first rodeo. That was a direct quote from my doctor who also told me throughout the pregnancy that, with this being my third, the chances of me delivering on my own were higher. My doctor stopped by my room once I was moved into delivery and said, “Girl, I knew you were in denial when I got a call at my office at 8 and you didn’t get here until 12.”
Massey was born at 2:30 pm. My husband arrived at 11:00 pm.
The next morning, when the sun came up and that tired Daddy got to hold that precious baby who just wouldn’t wait until Sunday, my heart nearly burst.
And I got a good chuckle out of this 3 days later: