But on to the main event. So to set the stage, you have to know that my previous labors with the boys have involved a lot of false labor. Many many Braxton Hicks and lots of frustration and bemoaning of my fate before real labor began. So when I started having contractions early with this baby I knew we could be in for a long process and we should probably dig in and stock up on popcorn. We ended up at the hospital at about 36 weeks because of near constant contractions, but doctors have this funny aversion to delivering babies too early and sticking them in the hospital for weeks, so we were advised to take it easy and hope we could cook our kid for a while longer. So I went home to my perfectly behaved children and did absolutely nothing for two weeks.
Those two weeks were fun because I felt like I was in early labor the whole time, we had lots of contractions that would heat up and then cool off, wake me up at night and have me walking the floors, stop suddenly for a day and leave me in despair, and in general being extremely untrustworthy. Feeling and being treated like a ticking time bomb is a great psychological experiment every woman should experience. So when I started having contractions all day Saturday, I considered for the millionth time going in to the hospital, then decided for the millionth time that irregular contractions that stop for half an hour at a time are not real labor and I'd just be disappointed when they sent us home to wait for the "real thing". So I settled down for my long winter's nap and decided I'd just be the first woman to be pregnant forever.
Well, that's when things got fun my friends. About 12:40 I rolled and out of bed to go use the bathroom and felt a two tiny gushes. Now, for the uninitiated, it is possible for the baby to kick your bladder hard enough to make you involuntarily embarrass yourself, and it's also possible to mistake this for your water breaking, and it's possible I know someone who has done this before and spent the afternoon at labor and delivery only to feel very stupid. You know, a friend of a friend. So I was still skeptical- for about five minutes. Then the contractions stopped messing around and I decided that fake labor or not, I was marching into a hospital and getting some drugs. So we called up my trustworthy mother and started getting into the car. After about two more minutes, I decided these contractions really weren't my favorite and I was not waiting for my mother to make the twenty minute trip to our house because I really, really like drugs and had a sudden hankering for a dealer. Things accelerated quickly from there. As I was getting in the car, I realized speed might be of the essence if I wanted to be numb for this baby's debut into the world. By the time we got to the freeway, I realized that was probably a pipe dream. By the time we rounded point of the mountain, I realized we were in big trouble. It's probably the time of my life I was most glad there weren't witnesses, because I got very vocal and very mobile. Sitting in a speeding car is not the best way to experience intense contractions, and I think I invented my own strange labor dance and penned my own self help book to myself, which was mostly very wise advice like, "okay, okay okay, OKAY, OKAY, OKAY! OH! KAY!"
Jessie was seemingly calm while he drove like a maniac and tried not to get pulled over, a task he performed admirably. By the time we got off the freeway, however, I was a hot mess and desperately afraid and finally admitting we might not make it to the hospital. There was a lot of screaming and yelling and Jessie trying to convince me we would make it, while my brain did strange things like worrying about the propriety of ripping off my pants in public and if it was okay if it was 1 in the morning. And trying to deny to myself that the urge to push meant something bad and the feeling of a bowling ball between my legs as we pulled into the parking lot was totally normal. Jessie, bless his heart, was remarkably understanding as I yelled things at him the whole time, and as he came over to get me I yelled at him that I couldn't walk and I needed a wheelchair STAT and GO! He really didn't want to leave me but he was really panicked at this point so he did what I said. Except I wasn't entirely rational and about thirty seconds after he left I started panicking about having a baby alone in the car while he found someone to help. It's amazing what your body can do when you're full of pain and fear, and I probably unwisely decided to follow him, so I stumbled into the hospital and pressed the button for the elevator, and continued to have a lovely conversation with myself. I do remember as I stepped into the elevator thinking, "This would be a really bad time for the elevator to get stuck. Then it would be just like tv." Fortunately for all of us, the elevator did not get stuck, but apparently I provided a fair amount of entertainment to the gaggle of nurses and Jessie waiting at the elevator on the next floor, who could hear me screaming as I ascended. (And for the poor nurse who made it to the lobby right after I left, who was confused why she couldn't find a desperate lady in labor.) AS I stood in the elevator I could feel the baby crowning and My yelling got pretty pronounced. The doors opened, I collapsed into the waiting wheelchair, and we ran in dramatic fashion to a room where I started ripping off shoes and clothing and yelling that the baby was here. About a minute after I hit the bed, one of the nurses delivered the baby and I turned to Jessie and said, "I NEVER want to do that again."
The nurses were actually pretty chill, because this happens to them sometimes, although they did get their adrenaline going and enjoyed telling all the new nurses about it as they came in. They thought it was awesome I didn't know the gender and laughed when they told me and I yelled, "It's a BOY?" And fell back on he bed again.
Anyway, that is rather long and involved. But the upshot is we all survived, if a little traumatized (I told Jessie every time I get after cramps I get tense and start to panic a little before I remember labor is over and I don't have to worry about it starting again), and Danny is wonderful and awesome and adorable and we're all in love. Here's a picture in case you missed it:
Daniel Philip Warner, 8 pounds 10 ounces, handsome and chunky and amzing. The other children are totally smitten, and our biggest problem is getting them to leave him alone for two seconds so he can sleep on peace. Kimberly in particular won't take eyes off of him for a second, and you have never met a more proud big brother than Ethan, who seems to think he is big enough to carry the baby around and babysit all on his own.
Here's the whole crazy crew. The loves of my life. Has anyone ever been so lucky or likely to go insane? Poor Jessie is playing Mr. Mom this week and I love him for it. I'm sure it will take time to get used to this crazy new normal, but I'm sure we'll get there someday, just in time to get blindsided by puberty or some other catastrophe, Isn't life great?
