Unfortunately, Patrick was not pleased with that plan. I went into labor that night. Also unfortunate was that I had decided to spend the night with my parents and he kids up at the lake and Brian went back home (an hour away) to work in the office the next day.
I will admit, I had been having contractions all day long but they weren't organized and I had been having contractions on an almost daily basis for over a month. So I didn't see the big deal. My mother thought otherwise and was 100% convinced that I would have to have a water birth in the lake. So I was a little timid at 1:00am when I woke her up to say that I was in labor and needed her to drive me to the hospital. But, due to her foresight she claimed "I knew it!" and got dressed. She stuffed her curling iron in her purse and we were out the door.
Now, my mother has some minor problems driving at night and staying awake while driving. But I had to take what I could get in terms of drivers at 1am. By the time we got in the car my contractions were two minutes apart and she was driving like Ricky Bobby (Talladega Nights) - going through red lights, going 10 MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT! and lastly, banging on the door of the toll booth on the thruway because the teller wouldn't take her 55 cents fast enough. She made it to the hospital in 45 minutes despite completely missing the entrance.
Brian met me at the front door where he had already checked me in. He's helpful like that. They wheeled me into the delivery room where I promptly notified everyone that I was ready for my epidural. NOW. And they let me know, in their kindest terms, that I had to finish half a bag of saline to make sure I was hydrated enough. Fine, I could do that. What I could not do was wait the 30 minutes it took them to get an IV in me. I can't remember what the problem was with my veins but I had nasty bruises for a few days to prove their efforts.
I was only 2 centimeters dilated when I entered at 2am, 3 centimeters when they gave me the epidural at 4:30am, and at 6:30 I was 8 centimeters. And when they told me I was ready to push this is what they saw:
only not so cute and not clothed. Patrick was rear-end breech. And due to health concerns about him intaking meconium in his nose or mouth I was forced to get a c-section. I was pretty verbal at this point about my displeasure of this policy. I think I told everyone who came in contact with me that I was not happy about the c-section - anesthesiologists, a plethora nurses, at least three doctors, and random people in the recovery room.
Patrick was born at 7:24am weighing 7lbs 15oz and was 20 inches long. I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to see him. I don't know if was exhaustion, the medication, or a combination of both.
This was taken a few hours later when I was still heavily medicated but at least conscious.
Later that day my parents brought the kids over to meet Patrick.
They are enamored with Patrick. They want to hold him, pet him, kiss him, change his diaper, be next to him, and smother him - ALL THE TIME. Granted, I'm thrilled that they love him so much but it's a little too much sometimes.
I don't know why this picture uploaded vertical but I love how content Jamison looks next to Patrick. And poor Patrick is reaching out to me with his hand - Heeeeeeelllllp meeeeeeeeee.
And this is why we are constantly telling Jamie - please don't touch your brother without us in the room. It turns into a tackle.
But as always, Jamison has a sweet heart and makes sure that his sleeping brother gets a bla bla (Jamie's word for these special kind of blankets). Although I have had to remind him a few times that blankets do not go over Patrick's head, just his legs.
So we are all doing well (three weeks later) and with the help of family (my mother and father let us live with them for the first week after my c-section) and friends life is getting easier every day.