Andrew and I had a wonderful New Years Eve. Dan and Betsy hosted a fun night at their house. We had a blast hanging out with our friends and played way too many rounds of charades while ringing in the new year.
I was feeling good considering that I was less than a week away from my due date at 39 weeks. Things had changed a little bit though (I’ll spare you the details!), so I called my resident doctor, my sister, Kathryn (she’s an OBGYN resident in NYC), and she suggested that I call my doctor. I stepped outside and called my OB and told her what was going on. She told me that things were probably fine and that real labor could still be up to 2 weeks away. She suggested that I lie down and make sure the baby was moving enough. (I was at a party…I forgot to mention that to her!) When I got off the phone with her, I updated Andrew, then went in the den and continued chatting with the girls. I sat there and secretly “counted kicks” in my head. All night I was calm, but semi-nervous about the possibility of going into labor. I refused to let myself get into panic-mode and constantly reminded myself that I would know when things were getting real. (the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I worried about how I would know when it was time…my naive self thought that I could be in labor without knowing…ha! looking back, it’s pretty funny now!) Anyways, we stayed out wayyyy too late! We didn’t get home until around 3 a.m. if I’m remembering correctly. We crashed and, of course, I still woke up pretty early. Something was different though.
I had consistent Braxton Hicks contractions all morning. I timed them and tried all the tricks to get them to stop (drank cold water, moved around, walked, laid on my side, etc…). I was pretty tired and ended up napping all morning. My doctor told me to look for regular contractions that are about 4 minutes apart, or to call if I had more than 6 in one hour). At around 12 noon, I called my doctor and told her that things were progressing. My lower back had begun to hurt with each contraction and they weren’t going away. She told me to go ahead and go to the hospital, but warned me that we may get sent home. Andrew and I decided that we’d rather go and get sent home, than end up rushing to the hospital frantically.
We put a few last-minute items in our bags and calmly drove to the hospital. We agreed to wait to call our family once we knew how far along things were. I was admitted into a labor and delivery room because all of the triage rooms were full. We had a lovely nurse who was cute and sweet. Unfortunately, I was still only 1 cm dilated and my contractions were pretty far apart (7-10 minutes). They monitored the baby for a few hours and then told us to go home. The nurse said she was sure that the baby would arrive in a few days at the most, but that I didn’t want to sit there and get hooked up to machines (and not be able to eat or drink) this early on. Andrew and I were really calm and were just happy that the baby was healthy and doing well. By the time we got in the car to head home, my contractions were getting more intense. I was in a good amount of pain, but was just trying to relax and stay calm.
We heading to Andrew’s parents house to see everyone and the Israels (John’s sister’s family) were in town for New Years. Luckily, they had some delicious leftovers from their NYE feast. I did my best to eat a decent meal, even though I was feeling pretty crummy by that point. I laid on the couch and tried not to whine too much while everyone bummed around like you do on New Years Day. Mrs. Ann (my mother-in-law) and Lillian were convinced that the baby was on its way. I tried not to get my hopes up too much, but I knew things were happening.
We were back at our house by 5 pm and both wanted to just relax. We left our suitcase in the car and headed inside. Andrew actually went to bed at 7:30 because he knew that there was a strong possibility that we would be up in the middle of the night. I parked myself on the couch for the night and constantly just watched the clock and counted contractions. I crawled in bed at around 10 pm and tried to get some sleep even though my back was really killing me. I woke up at 11:30 to unbearable pain. My lower back was killing me. It felt like a 300 pound man was stomping on my lower back (or at least what I imagine that would feel like…). I tried to lay any way that I could. I could not stand, sit, or lay down comfortably. I woke Andrew up and we called my doctor. She told me that things were happening and it was time to go back to the hospital. So, less than 12 hours later, we were heading back. Luckily, our bags were still packed (and I was already showered with my hair dried and straightened…I was paranoid that I would end up going to the hospital with my crazy hair and look terrible in all pictures. I know. So stupid, but true.) so all I had to do was brush my teeth and jump in the car.
I couldn’t even talk by this point. Andrew called both of our moms to let them know that we were heading to the hospital. My mom came right away despite the fact that we told her to go back to sleep. Andrew’s mom decided to stay home until we called her back and let her now how far along I was.
We got there and got admitted back into a L&D room pretty quickly. My doctor gave me permission to get an epidural as soon as I wanted one. I was measuring 4 cm by this point and I was ready for the drugs! I have NO CLUE how people go through labor without any pain killers. I honestly don’t think I would’ve survived.
My mom and Andrew were both helping me through the contractions until the anesthesiologist came in to begin the epidural. I was slightly nervous about the fact that a student/nurse anesthetist-in-training would be the one to put the giant needle in my back, but I was in too much pain to worry. Once it was in and running, I had complete relief within 10 minutes. It was A.MA.ZING!
This is turning into a mini-novel, but I really want to write down everything that I can remember so I can refer back to this in the future. 
Be back for the rest of the story!
