I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now.

“A while” being two weeks. I don’t want to forget a single detail about FOH’s birth, and so, tonight is the night to begin The Story — the birth story.

I had four “guess” dates for FOH’s arrival : the 20th, 23rd, 25th and 27th. Don’t ask where I came up with most of these — I don’t have a good answer other than : they’re simply numbers I like.

If I had to narrow it down to one, my pick was the 27th. The BF and his sister share a 27 birth date and it’s one of my favorite numbers. My mother in law was convinced it was going to be the 27th, as well, and she correctly guessed the birth dates of three of her four children … whose going to mess with a streak like that?

I, however, was hoping McDreamy was correct in her prediction that FOH would be a late arrival by at least a week. It made me feel like I had dodged a bullet … that I still had a few more days of sleep and mental preparation.

The night of the 26th, The BF and I went over to my brother in law’s for dinner and a movie, along with TC and my mother in law. When we got home, I took a long shower and as I was drying my hair, started to feel what I thought were light contractions.

I say “thought” since it was just a mild cramp-like feeling that would come on a few times within the span of thirty minutes. I fell right asleep without any problems and didn’t wake up till about 9 on Sunday, the 27th.

And that’s when I knew, this kid was coming soon. I don’t know how I knew, I just did. I was overcome with such fatigue that after eating a light breakfast, I immediately went back to bed for three more hours. When I woke up early afternoon, contractions had once again begun. This time a little stronger, but still, nothing intense. More of annoyance, if anything.

Still feeling incredibly tired after this morning nap, I decided to go back to bed again. Amazing that my body knew I needed to rest. When I woke up from nap number two, I announced I was getting my act together and whipping into action {read: I was in denial that I might soon be in labor}.

First order of business : walk Murphy. After taking 10 minutes to get his leash and my shoes on, I decided there was no way in hell I was going to walk him. There was no way I’d be able to — the contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I’d never make it to the end of the street. To think all I thought I needed was a good long walk! Really, I love myself for that naivete.

I knew I’d start to go crazy though if I didn’t start to do something. Nothing like action to keep your mind off things. Naturally, I decided to clean. I had just gotten the vacuum out of the closet and plugged it in the kitchen when I felt this warm gush. I thought of McDreamy telling me sometimes when your water breaks, it feels like you peed your pants — that’s exactly what it was like. Except, I was confused as to whether or not it really was my water breaking since there wasn’t much.

So I decided to consult Google and my friends. The consensus was: my water had not broken yet. This happened at about 4p.m. At 5:30 I put a call in to the doctor on-call at the hospital and he agreed — if my water had broken, I’d know and it would have been a significant amount. He told me not to come to the hospital till my contractions were 3-4 minutes apart, lasting a good minute, for an hour.

I went back to vacuuming. I did laundry. I triple checked to make sure I had everything in my bag. I took a shower. I shaved my legs. I painted my toe nails. You know, the important things to do when you’re in labor.

The time continued to pass. By 8, my contractions were steadily becoming stronger, lasting about 20-30 seconds and coming about every 6-7 minutes. So I did what any normal in labor girl does. More laundry.

I ate a little dinner. I tried to go to bed. Around 11:45, I got out of bed — stronger and stronger contractions and I thought I better start timing to see where things were at. Some would last 40 seconds, others over a minute. But they weren’t 3-4 minutes apart, though they were strong enough that I knew I couldn’t lay down. I tried walking around the house, making sure I was close to something I could hold onto when a contraction came on.

At 1a.m. I started feeling like I had to throw up at the onset and duration of the contractions. It was so damn intense, People. While it didn’t hurt, it was extremely uncomfortable and felt like a lot of pressure — this is where the Hypnobabies training was so helpful.

Hypnobabies refers to contractions as pressure waves and that is the perfect word for it, because it’s exactly that: pressure. A lot of it.

During this contraction time I didn’t start using my Hypnobabies techniques till getting out of bed at 11:45 — I had been able to breathe through and stay comfortable up until that point.

When I woke The BF up to tell him the contractions were stronger and making me feel like I was going to puke everywhere, he immediately bolted out of bed and said it was hospital go-time.

I initially disagreed with this because my contractions still weren’t following a pattern of every 3-4 minutes nor where they consistently lasting a good minute, and I direct quote myself, I did not want to be an over-reactive first time mother that they send back home.

Thankfully The BF ignored me and started to move quick. Bags, house check, etc. As we were walking out the door, I had such a strong contraction that I almost fell down and that’s when it truly hit me. This kid was coming and coming soon. Over reactive my ass!

Now. Of all the times I’ve been in the car with The BF and experienced his driving skills, he has never been one to drive slow. Ironically, he picked me being in labor to go ten miles under the speed limit. Under! Good God.

I kept asking him to just please, for the love of all that is holy and good in this world, to just please please please go the speed limit. At this point it was 1:30 on a technically Monday morning. No one was even on the road!

My preaching fell on deaf ears — the best I was able to talk him into was going 35 in a 40. It was one of the single longest car rides in my life — I’m sure that goes without saying.

We arrived at the Emergency entrance {the only entrance to the hospital during the middle of the night}, and as The BF helped me out of the car, he asked a police officer there on duty to get us a wheel chair but to hell with that!

I was all about dignity and self preservation. I would walk myself in through those doors and sign my name, thank you very much. So while I signed in, The BF parked the car and I was gripping the counter for dear life with my eyes closed and head down.

Shit was getting more intense more quickly. And holy shit, this baby really was going to come soon. And triple shit, I was going to have to birth him. And let me add in another holy shit — could I do this all natural thing? What the hell, all natural childbirth! What was I thinking?

This was reinforced as I was standing there and the police officer says, god you look way worse than the other woman who came in here about an hour ago.

I wanted to break his knees at that comment, but I stayed strong and silent and imagined my Bubble Of Peace.

When The BF arrived, they gave us a wheelchair and off we went to the labor and delivery floor. But not without it taking for f-ing ever to get to the elevator. It’s just like when you have a bum wheel on a shopping cart at the store — one of the wheel chairs wheels was shot so The BF was running me into walls and doors at a sideways angle — each of these jolts illictating a, jesus f-ing christ, from me.

At this point let me assure you I was actively practicing my hypnosis techniques and praying profusely and constantly. Once I was checked in on L&D, I went to triage to be “examined”.

Imagine my complete shock and surprise when the nurse asks me if I want to know how far along I am — I said a resounding HELL YES I want to know {emphasis on hell yes} — and she tells me 8cm! She also confirmed that it was my water that had broken, but there was another sac of water, too. Apparently you can have two — who knew?

That was the moment I knew I’d make it through this birth experience with Hypnobabies and it was really going to work. Throughout my course, I had read that the majority of mothers who do Hypnobabies birth much faster and many arrive at the hospital ready to go, having been able to do the majority of labor at home.

I was thrilled this had actually happened to me! Validation! It was working! Add in another holy shit!

I was quickly ushered into Birthing Room 7 and preparations were in full swing. I thought everything was very calm, but as my labor and delivery nurse later told me, they were nervous and quickly trying to get everything ready — they were sure I would have FOH within or less than an hour at this point.

Not so. By now it was about 3. The BF had already called my dad, who called my mother in law and they arrived at the hospital. At about 3:30, my nurse told me I had family who wanted to see me. To which I responded with a, the hell my family is going to see me. So I had The BF go out and deliver that message, which was delivered more as, she’s so happy you’re here but it’s not a good time to see her.

And it wasn’t. Oh, it was not a pretty sight at this point, People. My contractions were full on and it was f-ing intense. What I thought was intense earlier in the evening was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to this.

Again, it didn’t hurt. I honestly did not think it did. It was the insane amount of pressure that was getting to me. I waffled. I wanted to call it on this whole natural route. I wanted, more than anything, to shout as loud as I could, give me some GD fing drugs NOW god dammit.

Instead I said nothing. I knew the second I gave a voice to my thoughts of doubt, I’d be done. Over and done with.  I’d be {mentally} broken. I also knew I had to be past the point of no drugs return. Once you get to 9cm, there’s no going back.

I was both relieved for this and pissed about it. I kept thinking I had to have been completely drugged myself when I decided to do Hypnobabies. That it was one of the worst decisions I ever made.

Then I’d teeter back to feeling relieved that there was no point in thinking about it, because it was happening and happening naturally. Throughout these powerful contractions, I had The BF doing counter pressure on my lower back. I’m not sure if this actually helped or not — it just felt psychologically good to have something else pushing on me for distraction of mind, at least.

By 4a.m. my nurse asked if I wanted the doctor to come in and break the other bag of water. She thought things would go a lot faster once this happened. I looked at her like she had ten eyes — jesus christ! YES and WHY didn’t you mention this an hour ago?!

I had to wait for a good in-between contraction moment for the rest of the water to be broken and was given the heads up that once this happened, the contractions would become even more frequent with a higher intensity level.

Throughout this whole time, not much else was said by the nurses. Therefore, I was confused as to what was happening. I thought they’d tell me when to push. No one told me when to push till I asked and was met with, you can start pushing at any time you feel ready to. What the hell was that?! And how would I “know”?!

Allow me to assure you, you do know when to push. There’s no not knowing because it’s such a strong and natural urge — you have to push. This feeling came on close to 5. I had no idea what I was doing and tried to go with the nurses guidance of “bearing down” and pushing longer throughout the whole contraction.

They had all sorts of suggestions, like holding my legs back, but I found that utterly exhausting to push and hold legs at the same time. Here’s something else I didn’t know about giving birth : it’s physical. Damn physical, People. It was the hardest workout I’ve ever had.

Your entire body is engaged. I was thanking my yoga books for all the squats they recommended doing to keep the legs strong during birth, though I felt slightly duped that they hadn’t included a side note to do them because you’d need a shit ton of leg strength to push your kid out. A little fair warning would have been nice!

During this time of pushing and going through the waves of contractions, I was loud. Make no mistake here — I was not one of those women who did the Hypnobabies course and put her video up on YouTube who gives birth in relative silence. In fact, I can’t help but question the authenticity of those videos because OMFG, THE PRESSURE.

It’s so intense and such a primal reaction, I think, to yell. Forget yelling, I was louder than a yell but not quite at a scream. I remember asking my nurse at one point if the walls were sound proof. I was horrified when she told me no and feeling sorry for whomever was on either side of me — I had to have been scaring the living shit out of them.

I also was convinced I was going to break the bed. I needed something to hold on to when the contractions hit, so I kept grabbing the side railings on the bed. Even The BF admitted he was surprised the railings stayed on.

Finally a little after 6, the call was placed to the doctor that we were ready. In walks Dr. J — whom oddly enough, I had a feeling all along would deliver FOH. Never met him before this, never even so much as saw him in the hallway during all my appointments.

I immediately disliked him. A rather unfortunate thing when someone is about to deliver your child. Perhaps dislike is too strong and unfair of a word. It was more I just didn’t feel any sort of connection at all, nor did he have any sort of comforting bed side manner to him. I mean, if I was about to deliver someone’s baby, I’d at least say a few words to them and introduce myself. None of that. Straight formalities here.

To Be Continued With Part 2 …