The craziest three and a half hours of my life

December 16, 2003

5pm-ish: I was driving home from work, stuck in traffic, when I noticed I was having contractions. I wasn't just STARTING to have contractions. I was having 7-minutes-apart contractions. Huh. Strange that I didn't feel my contractions while I was at work? I call Alfred and he asks if we should meet at the hospital. I don't know what compelled me to tell him to meet at home but I did.

6pm-ish: I am finally home (yes, my commute to work took me about an hour for a 30 mile drive) and I realize that perhaps we should have met at the hospital after all. I called my parents to come to our house to stay with Desiree so that Alfred could take me to the hospital. We grab my hospital bag and, as we wait, Alfred tries to complete the hospital registration form that we had not brought to the hospital yet because it was still 4 weeks before my due date. By the time he gets to the section about my work address and social security number, my contractions are so strong that I can't talk to him anymore. I'm pacing the house, which I realize is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG since walking around speeds up the labor, but it was the only way to get my mind off the contractions. By the time my parents get to the house, I'm almost in tears and I waddle as fast as I can to the car.

7pm-ish: We finally get to the hospital. Alfred LOOKS FOR PARKING while I'm holding on to the back of the passenger seat in a death grip. (It isn't until I told this story that someone asked why Alfred didn't drop me off at the front of the hospital so that they could wheel me up to the maternity ward while he looked for parking. Alfred and I just looked at one another and laughed so hard! Duh!) We walk into the hospital, freak everyone out in the elevator as I cursed and breathed through contractors and get to the maternity reception area where the nice lady at the desk proceeds to ask me to have a seat and wait since all the beds were currently full. I beg the lady to please, please, PLEASE find a place for me ASAP before I have the baby right then and there, PLOP, on the floor. Seriously. Alfred tells me I'm scaring the kids in the reception area and it take everything in my power not to shout obscenities and become physically abusive.

Feels like a whole day has passed but it probably is only 7:15pm-ish: I'm finally in triage and they hand me a gown to put on. I barely get this on and practically crawl to the bed they have waiting for me. The nurse takes a peep and "WHOOPS, UM, LET'S GET A WHEELCHAIR! WE'LL HAVE TO BRING HER TO THE OPERATING ROOM SINCE ALL THE REGULAR LABOR ROOMS ARE FULL!" I ask if they aren't going to hook me up to those monitors first and they say "No time." I ask if I can get an epidural for the pain and they say, "Sorry, sweetie, no time." I ask if I can get ice chips since my mouth was so dry and they say, "Sorry, no time." AUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!! They get me on the operating table, the nurses act as stirrups for my feet and a couple of others are holding my back up. The nurse trying to get the IV in me is having trouble because my contractions are so close that I can't relax long enough for her to get the needle in me. The head nurse comments that if my doctor doesn't get there soon, she might have to deliver the baby herself! All I remember is begging to push and everyone telling me to HOLD ON! Wait just a little bit longer! Finally, my doctor walks in and as soon as he does, I ask if I can push and he nonchalantly says, "Sure!" as he is washing his hands and by the time he gets in front of me, TA-DA! My Katelyn was born at 8:30pm.

Happy 5^th birthday, Katelyn. The sweetest daughter, the most loving sister, the biggest animal lover, diva and sometimes pain-in-the-butt-because-you’re-so-stubborn-and-too-smart-for-your-own good person I know. I hope today and the rest of your days continue to be the “best day ever” for you.