So it turns out that I got the green light from Jesus and his posse and just like that — voila! I became a mom.
Except by “voila” I mean after 20 hours of labor, tears, anger, needles, losing any and all modesty and a c-section I became a mom. Sounds like a blast, right? Don’t worry, you can have it too for the small price of $5000 in hospital bills.
Needless to say, I’ll be paying that off until she’s 18… or 30… or until I die. Probably until I die.
Either way, I walked out of the hospital with this tiny human, who by the way, is very cute and snuggly. A real bargain, if you ask me. I’d do it all again if I had to… which hopefully won’t happen anytime soon unless I turn into Bill Murray and get stuck in Groundhog Day. That would make for a much worse movie… horrifying actually.
As they say, everyone has their own birth story… blah blah blah. Here’s mine in short — ouch.
Fine. Here’s the real one.
So like most stories that are set in Titusville, mine started much the same. I was perusing through one of our two stores (Target, because I’m classy obv) and I started getting these annoying pains. Cool, right? That didn’t, however, stop me from buying nail polish and about $50 worth of other crap I did not walk in intending to buy.
But then the pains worsened a bit.. and I said to my mom, “Hey, maybe we should go.”
So we check out and mom proceeds to tell everyone in Target, including at least three cashiers, that I’m in labor. I’m sure she would have announced it over the loud speaker if possible.
Fun fact— people get surprisingly chatty when you’re in labor… at least the beginning stages of labor. I swear it took 20 minutes to actually exit the store. And in Titusville, you know half the shoppers in the Target, so at least three additional familiar faces got to see the humble beginnings of my “birth story.” It was really pretty.
The night rolls around and I’m having pains all night, but here’s what they don’t tell you — you don’t get to really go to the hospital until it’s actually go-time. My contractions were seven minutes apart (meaning I got six minutes of sleep, followed by one minute of the feeling that someone was squeezing my uterus like they were turning it into a meatloaf) but seven minutes apart does not = go-time. This went on until 6 a.m., which means no sleep for Jessica (a trend that has since continued to this day).
At 6 a.m., we load up the car and head to the hospital. I was supposed to be induced at 7 a.m. anyway, so we were going regardless. I get there and the waiting game begins. The really fun waiting game where your whole family shows up and gets to take pictures with you in pain.
Labor makes me very sexy, as you can see.
Hey! Here is a snapshot of my family being rudddddeeee.
3 p.m or so rolls around and I’m over it. Really over it. I’ve been patient. I’ve waited and now I’m demanding drugs. ALL THE DRUGS. Thank you.
So they give me morphine and I conk out.
5:30 rolls around and zippidee doo da, it’s time for my epidural. Rejoice! Rejoice! Sing ahhhhh-leee-luuu. I’ve never been so happy to see a bearded man in scrubs. I don’t think I’ve ever been so nice to another human as I was to my anesthesiologist that day.
Now’s when things get dramatic, though.
I’m doing great. I can hardly feel the contractions. I’m ready.
Then my mom notices something bad. Really bad.
The baby’s heartbeat dropped dangerously low and the doctors and nurses started worrying. Next thing I knew, the doc was in and told me I had to get an emergency c-section. Goodie!
Good news, though, this guy got to wear scrubs.
I’ll spare you the ugly details of the c-section, but I will tell you they strap you down and rustle your guts up… but then you get this really cool prize at the end. So basically it’s like going to Denny’s and getting a free to-go drink.
Me, again, looking very hot and sexy.
Oh, and yes, that is definitely a baseball cap my husband is wearing under his hairnet… a dirty, old, icky Yankees hat he deemed as “lucky” that day.
So the story, thank God, ends with a happy, healthy VERY OBSERVANT (she came out with her eyes wide open) baby girl and I literally couldn’t be happier. I’ve glazed over this like it was nothing, but this little one gave us quite a scare (a type of fear I had never experienced before). I lost a lot of blood and had to take iron supplements, among other fun things, but the big guy upstairs took care of everything and we both made it out OK.
He didn’t, however, take care of the hospital bills yet… but we’re hoping for a miracle or that Y2K actually happens really late and they lose all their billing files.
In the meantime, meet my prize. She’s much better than a free to-go drink.
Born Jan. 15, 2015
6 pounds, 8 ounces
She’s really cute. I think we’ll keep her.
(How many times can I make that joke? ^^^ Too many times.)