In the wee hours of the morning, while the sun was still hidden from world, and I was sleeping peacefully (well, as peacefully as one can when one has a giant round ball for a belly and when one must get up every hour to go to the bathroom) I was stirred from my slumber. I woke up in a daze, but more importantly, in a puddle of wet and cold something. It was 4:15. Something that was not supposed to be in my bed. Alarmed at the cold and wet I was feeling in my pajamas I got up and went to the bathroom to make sure everything was ok. I also put on a fresh pair of pajama pants. Before I could get back into bed the clean and dry pjs I had just put on were wet. My water was leaking. At least, I was pretty darn certain. I called my sister and my doctor and decided, yes indeed, my water was leaking. It was time to go to the emergency room.
Apparently the Hubs sensed that I wasn't in bed, so when I said, "Landon," he sat up more alarmed than I was and asked what was wrong. "I think my water broke." He jumped out of bed and asked what he needed to do. In a haze he got his things together (funnily enough I had told him days before that he ought to pack a little bag for himself to take to the hospital - he hadn't) and took a two minute shower to wake up and I put a few last minute items in that needed to be packed in my bag. All the while I was certain my water had broke, but I was still in denial. That denial didn't last long as I felt a sudden gush of water, then another, and another. The water would not stop. It was terrifying. This wasn't suppose to happen for at least three more weeks.
Very slowly and carefully Landon helped me down the stairs and into the car. Thankfully the hospital is pretty close to our house and it didn't take us long to get admitted (another funny: I was planning on pre-registering at the hospital that very day). After a little while a nurse (or someone, I'm not really sure who) came and took me to labor and delivery in a wheel chair. When we got to our little room for delivery a nurse came in as started asking me all kinds of questions while I was being hooked up to a heart monitor for the baby.
Minutes after they hooked the heart monitor up for the baby another nurse came in, then another, and another, soon there were at eight nurses in the room with me. I knew this wasn't normal or good and started praying harder than I ever had before. They talked to me, asked me questions, tried to keep my mind occupied. It didn't work. The only thing I was thinking about was my baby and if he was okay. The nurses were hooking me up to all kinds of machines and monitors, pricking and poking me with needles, tubes, and other strange devices. They were flipping, turning, poking, prodding, sticking, and pushing me... trying to get the baby's heart rate to pick up. It was low. Too low. That or they couldn't find it, they told me he was hiding from them. Thankfully, they found a spot where they could monitor his heart rate and it had picked up, it was stronger. But they kept watching it very carefully, as this was not the ideal situation for baby or me. My eyes were glued to the heart rate monitor screen. All but two of the nurses left the room and then the doctor came in. He talked to me about what was going on and then hooked me up to a contraction monitor (holy moly...). Baby looked fine, for now, but they were going to keep a very close eye on him.
Not five minutes later the nurse came in and told me they were going to move me to a different room so they could monitor us better. In a blur they wheeled me to the new room and the kind sweet nurse reassured me the whole time. A few minutes after the move my doctor came in, she told me (*we came in right before shift change, thus the man doctor first and the lady doctor this time) that I was having a lot of contractions, but that they were very mild and close together, and because of this I wasn't dilating and wasn't going to. I felt lower back pain, cramping, but it wasn't very strong and only made me slightly uncomfortable. (I had been feeling these same cramps for about a week, they started getting stronger on Wednesday. When I told my doctor at my weekly appointment I was told that it was normal and everything was fine.) She said even if they put me on pitocin nothing would change and the mild but consistent contractions I was having was putting the baby under a lot of stress, and could cut into the blood supply which could cause harm to the baby's brain. It wasn't something that was going to get better with time, in fact, it would probably only get worse. Because of that she said she felt a C-Section was necessary. And soon. Within the hour soon. Our nurse left and got us in line for the operating room, we were going to be the next ones in, even if it meant delaying someone's scheduled C-Section.
All of this happened so quickly. There were maybe 10 minutes total where Landon and I were left alone that morning, 10 minutes when "nothing" was going on. We had arrived at the hospital at about 5:30 that morning. At 6:30 we had been admitted and I was hooked up to dozens of machines and the baby and I were being closely monitored. At 7:30 the doctor told us we were going to have a C-Section. At 8:30 I was being wheeled into the operating room. At 9:30 I was holding my precious baby boy in my arms.
I do not think I have ever prayed so consistently in my life. From the moment I realized my water had broke to the moment I heard the doctors say my baby boy was here I did not stop praying. Hearing baby boy's cries in the operating room was the sweetest and most wonderful sound I had ever heard. Oh, that sweet, sweet, cry.
I never knew it was possible to love someone so much so instantly. My heart was full the moment I heard Emerson. The moment I saw him I knew I would never be the same. The moment I held him I loved him more than I thought possible. He is perfect in every way and I love being his mama. Welcome home, Emerson.
