2 years ago I sat here denying the fact that I was in labor. Although I was timing contractions that were five minutes apart (with my second child, mind you), I was in disbelief.
“Just in case” it was real, I got online to complete a few things for work that I hadn’t done prior to the weekend. I spent about two hours online, timing my contractions going from 5 minutes to 4 1/2, to 4…and so on.
Yes, I was working. I tend to throw myself into work anytime I am stressed. And, well, labor is stressful, the denial of labor even more so!
At about 1 in the morning, I called the doctor. Oh yes, come to the hospital. Ok. I did a load of laundry. I woke my husband. I took a shower. I dried my hair. It was March and it was cold. And I was going to be neurotic about everything that had to get done before my daughter was allowed to come into this world. Yes, I was going to allow her to come into the world when everything was done. When I was ready.
Little Morgan was going to have nothing to do with my schedule, my neurotic nature, my desire to control everything. She had a mind of her own, and was ready to exert her will and announce her arrival to the world.
We got to the hospital and were escorted into a triage room in the maternity wing – you know – the ones where you go if you need to be “monitored”…not where you go to actually give birth.
I saw the midwife 10 minutes later. I knew based on my unforgiving, unrelenting, continual contractions that the baby was coming. But I still feigned surprise at the directives that “no my doctor would not make it in time, and no, the anesthesiologist wouldn’t either”. I informed her that “Yes, I was having an MD delivery, and no, I wasn’t doing it without drugs”. She was nice enough to leave me in the room to think about my decisions, because the baby was coming if I liked it or not. Yes, that’s what she said. Thinking back, she could have humored me and at least pretended she was going to call my doctor and get me some drugs, but instead, she left me to come to terms with my own foolishness.
Ten minutes later, my beautiful daughter was born. She burst into our lives in the middle of the night – on her own terms. We were in shock and awe from the whole experience.
But I wouldn’t have changed a thing…