When Claire was about 9 months old I remember thinking, "If we want our kids to be about 2 years apart like we've always said, then it won't be long before we need to think about having baby #2!" And the thought scared me to death. Someday soon I'll write about Claire's baby days and the huge scar they left me with. As Claire got a little older, the idea of another baby seemed more feasible. In the spring of 2008 we decided that we were officially ready for baby number 2 and I got the positive pregnancy test I was hoping for the morning of August 5, 2008, already a special day as it was our wedding anniversary. Jeff and I went out to dinner that night to celebrate not only our anniversary, but the fact that our family was expanding again. Our estimated due date was April 20, 2009.
My pregnancy with Jack was so incredibly different from Claire's that I still cannot believe it. To think that the exact same thing happened to my body twice, yet each time it responded completely differently is just beyond my comprehension. Remember my easy pregnancy with Claire? Yeah, not so much this time 'round. I didn't get sick until I was about 7 or 8 weeks pregnant, but it lasted until I was 20+ weeks along. It was so bad that I had to take Unisom every night to help with the nausea. Shortly after the sickness subsided, I started having contractions. Terrified that something was wrong, I called the doctor and they ran some tests. Turns out it was just a UTI, but talking with the doctor and discussing things like "viability" was horrible. For a few weeks, things were quiet and everything was great. I was lucky that I craved healthy food and fresh fruit instead of junk. I gained weight much more slowly this time around. Instead of gaining all over my body, I just started getting this ginormous belly.
Then, in February we thought our world was going to come crashing down around us. Jack gave us quite a scare. Claire started swimming lessons at the YMCA, and it was our first night. Jeff had planned on taking her in the pool because no reward in the world was going to get me into a bathing suit in the Y pool in front of a group of babies and their parents. I did come along to watch and document the event, though! It was pretty warm in the room, and it had been a long day, so when I started having some contractions on the way home, I didn't think much of it. I thought I just needed water and some dinner. We picked up pizza and came home. I drank a ton of water, ate, and rested on the couch. None of that stopped the contractions, and they were coming regularly. We called the doctor and she wanted us to come to Rochester immediately. We got my mom to come watch Claire and left for the hospital. The nurses hooked me up to the monitors and the doctor did an exam. We had to wait for awhile and be monitored. I was checked again, and because I was not dilating, they were confident that I was not in pre-term labor, which was a huge relief. I was, however, continuing to contract, so they had to give me a shot to stop the contractions. I was sent home to rest. I had to follow up with my doctor the next day, and I was having more contractions then. At that point, they sent me home with a prescription to take as needed throughout the day to stop contractions. Our goal was for me to make it to 36 weeks pregnant so that the baby could be born with fewer risks.
The contractions were constant over the next few weeks. I was constantly watching the clock, timing contractions and paying attention to how many I had in an hour. I took my medicine and it helped a little, but the contractions always came back. With each day that passed, I was certain I was going to be delivering a premature baby, but trying so hard to keep him inside just a little bit longer. Finally, at the end of March I was exhausted, uncomfortable, and having constant contractions. My doctor took me out of work and I truly believe that it made all of the difference in the world. I was able to rest, and while the contractions continued, they weren't nearly as bad as they had been when I was working.
Meanwhile, at each weekly appointment, the doctor checked me and I continued to make progress with dilating and getting closer to when I would go into labor. When I was about 37 weeks pregnant I was 3-4cm dilated and we were all certain that Jack would be born any day. Nope. I went back for my 38 week appointment, convinced that I would be in labor any day. We began to discuss a possible induction because now, I was quite dilated and had a long drive to the hospital. Instead of the doctors worrying that Jack was going to be born prematurely, they were worried that I wasn't going to make it to the hospital to deliver him there. That night, I began having regular contractions. After timing them for an hour or so, we called and the doctor said to come in. We left for the hospital, this time sure we'd be having our baby and not worrying about his health. It was nice to have a calm drive to the hospital, not the kind of horrible white-knuckled drive we'd had when Claire was born. I even made Jeff stop at Target on our way because I needed new slippers. You didn't expect me to birth a baby in old socks, did you?
We got to the hospital, got monitored, and although the contractions were registering on the monitor, they didn't appear to be doing much. We started pacing the halls of the hospital, hoping that the walking would get things moving. It didn't. After a couple of hours they put us in a room and instructed us to get some sleep. This was such unfamiliar territory, after Claire's relatively fast birth, that I didn't know what to do with myself! I slept a little, but mostly kept trying to get something to happen. Wasn't someone going to break my water, give me some pitocin, something??? At 7:30 the next morning the doctor on-call (coincidentally the same doctor that, back on January 11, 2007 told me I was in early labor with Claire and not to rush to the hospital because it was going to be "a long time" before my baby came...) told me I was not actually in labor and to go home. So, Jeff and I did the ultimate walk of shame, carrying my pillow, our bags, and the green chamois-covered Boppy pillow down the halls and back out to the parking garage. Bummer.
Sadly, the next week I showed back up to my doctor's appointment, in complete disbelief that I was still pregnant. Trust me, I wasn't the only one shocked at this fact. The receptionists couldn't believe I was there, and frankly, neither could the midwife. We talked seriously about induction and a date was set. April 15. I was instructed to call the hospital at about 11am to find out what time to head in. Because I was not overdue and I had no serious complications, my induction was more for convenience and was not a priority. Apparently, the possibility of delivering your baby on the side of the road doesn't make you a real concern. The night before I was extremely emotional. We played with Claire and danced in the sunroom to Rusted Root, "Send Me on My Way," Claire's favorite song. I put my little baby to bed, knowing that this was the last time it would be just us in the house. I felt like I was betraying her just a little bit, opening my heart and sharing it with another being. I was sad, but at the same time, excited to meet Jack and welcome him to our family.
So at 8:00am when a nurse from Highland Hospital called and told me that they had way too many women in labor and that there was no way they were going to be able to fit me in, I just about lost it. I was devastated. We had a plan! Didn't anyone care that things were not going to plan? Didn't anyone care that I was so far dilated that the baby was just going to fall out of me in the Wegmans parking lot? How could they cancel this??? Drastic measures were needed. One way or another, this baby was coming out and it was not going to be next week. It was going to be NOW. I went for a huge long walk, pushed Claire in the stroller the whole way, including up a pretty steep hill. We went home and waited, then got ready for bed discouraged that labor hadn't started. Jack's eviction notice had been served, but clearly, he didn't care.
At 10:51pm on April 15 I had a contraction. At 10:59 I had another...and so on for the next half hour or so. I timed them, but really didn't think much of it, given my history over the last 7 weeks. I told Jeff that I was timing them, but I wasn't worried. He insisted that we go to the hospital, but I figured we had a little time since the pain was not bad (at all!), they were still 8 minutes apart, and really, they didn't feel any different than they had for weeks. I did not want to be sent home from the hospital a second time. By about midnight they were 6 minutes apart and very slightly stronger, so I told Jeff I was going to shower, then call the doctor and we'd leave. Turns out, walking from our bed to the bathroom (which is, what, 10 feet? Maybe?) was all it took to throw me into full-blown, can't-stand-up-or-talk-during-contractions, get-me-the-epidural-right-this-second, labor. I couldn't even get back to our bedroom to tell Jeff that we needed to leave right away. Finally, I made it back, woke him up (yes, he had fallen asleep in the 20 minutes it took me to get back to the bedroom! Oooops!) called the doctor and my mom. My mom got to our house at 1, and as we left I was praying to "Please let me get to the hospital in time to get the epidural!"
Very quickly in the car, my prayers turned to, "Please let me get to the hospital in time to have this baby. I cannot have this baby on the side of the road!" My contractions were coming every 2 minutes, sometimes closer, and my whole body was tingling and shaking. So, I'm pretty sure they call that transition and you don't mess around when that's happening because it means the baby is coming, and coming fast. Jeff was driving 110mph on the Thruway, and at one point thought he was going to be pulled over. The only time I spoke during our ride was when he informed me of this, and all I said was, "Don't stop this car for anything. Call 911 if you have to, but don't stop the car." I could feel the urge to push and I used every bit of strength in my being to hold that baby in. I was not about to be the woman you hear about on the news, delivering a freaking baby in my car (Um, and really, can you imagine the mess? That was probably a large chunk of my motivation right there!). And for anyone who's not too good with math, let's look at this. I had my first contraction at 10:51. It was now approximately 1:20...I'd been in labor for less than two and a half hours, and I was about to have this baby. Crazy, right??
We pulled into the parking lot at the hospital at 1:33. Turns out that our visit the week before had been a blessing in disguise. Since having Claire, the hospital had changed what entrance patients go through in the middle of the night. Had we not had our practice run, we would not have known this...and I may have delivered Jack on the sidewalk. Sweet. I'm sure we were quite a sight, Jeff trying to grab a wheelchair for me, while I couldn't stop and just waddled/ran through the ER to get to the elevators. Once on the elevator I had two intense contractions and couldn't get out of the elevator when it got to labor and delivery. Jeff was pulling me, just trying to get me to a room. We ran past the nurse at the desk and into triage. I remember another couple in the triage area next to ours, staring at us, as I came in saying, "I'm having this baby now!!!!" nurses running over to check me and get me into a gown, calling the doctor and preparing the gurney to be moved into a labor room, fury and craziness surrounding us like a tornado had just swept into the room. Poor couple, it was probably their first baby and I'm quite certain I traumatized them. The nurse checked me and I was 9.5cm dilated, and just about ready to deliver the baby. I barely made it to the delivery room, and was so relieved to see my doctor when she came in, calm and ready to go. As soon as she walked in, she broke my water, and I was ready to push. Five minutes and a couple of pushes later, and at 1:51am on April 16, Jackson William was born, three hours to the dot after I had gone into labor. He was a healthy 8 pounds 7 ounces, and 19 1/2 inches long. He was perfect. Turns out, I just don't cry when my kids are born because I didn't cry right away that night, either. I was, again, just so relieved that it was over.
I'll never forget laying in that bed, in the dark quiet room, after everything had been cleaned up and I was just holding my baby and looking at the clock. He was born eighteen minutes after we'd arrived at the hospital. I must have done that math a thousand times in my head, sure that I was miscalculating. When I was in the thick of it, it seemed as though we'd been at the hospital for much longer. I felt like I'd pushed for at least an hour! Jack gave us quite a scare earlier on, then got a little too comfortable on the inside. Once he was ready to come, though, he was impatient and wanted to be out with us faster than we ever thought was possible! It is only within the last couple of months that I can drive again on the Thruway without feeling a huge amount of anxiety and stress as I get near Rochester. I will never forget that night and our terrifyingly white-knuckled drive to the hospital! But, I wouldn't change it for the world, and if I had to go through it again in order to have either of my children in my life, I'd do it in a second.
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