Was that a Contraction or do I have to Fart?

At 38.5 weeks I finally felt pregnant. Ladies, NOW I get. Now I understand. Being pregnant sucks. I gained damn near 20lbs overnight. OK not really overnight but it seemed like it. I woke up one morning and my belly had popped out, the feet which I could no longer see when I looked down, hurt like hell, my boobs swelled up twice their already large size, and I was peeing every five minutes. It was freaking awful.

Everything hurts and I'm dying.
Why women do this more than once is beyond me.
Are you people crazy?
I never want to be pregnant again.

Getting out of bed was a feat in itself. My baby felt like she was literally swimming IN my bladder, I was peeing ten times a night. Those two things together had made me a miserable person. I was SO tired from not sleeping more than an hour at a time, and in so much pain from rolling my giant ass out of bed and walking to the bathroom. Looking back, pregnant-tired is so much better than my baby won't sleep at night-tired.

Oh the hormones. I can't say it enough, Joel was amazing. He handled every breakdown I had with so much love and care it made me question if I even deserved to be in the presence of such a remarkable man. I cried about everything. I cried over a TV commercial featuring a puppy. I cried because I had to get up and pee for the millionth time. I cried because the ingredients on my sandwich weren't in the right order. I cried because Joel brought me home Skittles. Then I cried because how dare he bring me a bag of Skittles with more yellow ones than red ones. I was a lunatic. 5150 psych hold, Brittany Spears circa 2007 type of lunatic. Why Joel still married my crazy ass after all of that I will never understand.

You guys, I had a mental breakdown about a box. A box. A full on ugly cry, face full of snot, nobody loves me, I'm going to raise this baby alone sob-fest. At my house, I have a small box of basic tools. Joel had used the tools in that box to assemble the crib and other various baby containers. That box didn't make it back into the garage where it belonged once Joel was finished. I'd asked Joel to put that box back probably three or four times. He ignored me. Men read: never ignore your pregnant partner. If she says jump, instinctual you reply with "how high". If she asks you to do something for her, you do it, immediately, without question. We have scarified our bodies, mainly our boobs and vaginas, to bring your child into this world. The least you can do it put away a damn box, or go to every Rita's Italian Ice within driving distance to find the elusive Red Sour Patch Kid flavor. Just do it, it will all be over soon.

Joel is what I call a "later person". I am a "now person". He'd rather do menial tasks later, whereas I think its best to just do it now. We still argue about that to this day. Anyway, I walked by that damn box for tenth time and did what all grown ups do, I called my Mommy crying. Over a box. "Joel didn't put the box away like I asked him to do. He doesn't care about me. When this baby comes she is going to sit in a shit filled diaper for hours because hes a later person. Why can't he just put away the box! I don't ask for much". Irrational. Ridiculous. Unreasonable. My mother called me out on my crazy, my Dad sent me a meme he created that said "#boxlivesmatter", and Joel finally moved the stupid box. I love my family. My poor daughter doesn't stand a chance with these people.

The Sunday before I gave birth, my Mom took us all out to dinner at a local mexican restaurant. They were all DONE with my being pregnant, all 4 weeks of it at that point, and wanted this baby out now. So we tried the old wives tales. After a meal of spicy food, she took us all off-roading in her SUV bouncing me all around the back seat. And by "off-roading" I mean she drove me around the grounds at work and drove circles in our very own backyard. Maybe that stuff worked because two days later I lost my mucus plug. That thing looked a Guinness Book of World Record winning snot rocket. Do not google what that looks like, its disgusting. You have been warned. This was a sign that shit just got very real. I'm having a baby, probably within a week. The next day I went to to the OB for my 39 week check. She was SO excited that I'd lost my mucus plug and checked me and I was 2cm dialated and 50% effaced. The clock is ticking. The time is near.

I'd read a lot of stuff in on the internet about being pregnant and I'd talked to a lot of formerly pregnant women. NOT ONE OF YOU PEOPLE TOLD ME about the ever so elusive "stripping of the membranes". I was not warned. Definition: freeing the membranes of the amniotic sac from the wall of the lower segment of the uterus in the small opening around surrounding the cervix. The doctor recommended it, described the procedure and proceeded to strip my membranes using her fingers. She told me it would feel "slightly uncomfortable". Liar. She lied again. That shit hurt for real. The pain that I felt during the procedure and in the days to follow confirmed and validated my want and need for all the drugs. Needless to say, I'd start my maternity leave on that day, August 2, 2017.

I was woken up around 3am the next morning with a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. Was that a contraction? It can't be, I probably just have to poop. I fell back asleep for about a forty five minutes before I was woken up again by the same pain. Maybe I just have gas and have to fart. We'd gone to Golden Corral the night before for dinner, and if you'd ever eaten there, you'd also be leaning toward it being gas and not a contraction. Joel gets up around that time and starts getting ready for work. I'm in denial at this point that I'm in labor. Joel kisses me and my baby belly goodbye and heads to work. I tell him to keep his phone close just in case I'm actually in labor. I figure I'd try and use the bathroom. Oh. My. God. My body literally emptied itself. Lets just say I had to use and plunger and flush the toilet about three times. I read on the internet that one way your body prepares itself for labor is to empty all of its contents. My body did that an more. As the hour that it took Joel to get work passed I was more and more convinced this was it. Oh shit. I'm in labor. I text my Mom, she stops by my room on her way to work and pretty much confirms for me that I'm most likely in labor.  Then she does what every supportive mother does, she leaves for work and tells me she'd check on me later and for me to call L & D and keep her posted. Gee, thanks mom. Before she runs out the door she tells me to call Joel NOW. I follow her instructions and call Joel just as he gets to work and tell him to turn his ass around because today is the day.

Contraction Counter

My New England Patriot fanatic Baby Daddy is beyond excited. The date is August 3, 2017. He really wants me to have our baby on this day. He literally tells me I have 17 hours to get this baby out. August 3rd also happens to be Tom Brady's birthday. Over my dead body. If I am in labor, and it's 11:59pm and they tell me to push, I'm not doing it. My baby will most certainly not be sharing her birthday with Mr. Deflate-gate.

39 weeks, 4 days

They hate me

Nursery set up, check. Birth plan, check. Car seat installed, check. Hospital bag packed, check. But we still don't know the sex of our baby. I'd like to buy something that isn't green, yellow or gender neutral already. I want to see blue or pink dammit. July 14, 2017 rolls around and it's time for my final sonogram. I'm 37 weeks at this point. This sonogram is at the hospital where I will be delivering our baby. Perfect time to check out parking, and where I need to go on the day of. My OB suggested I go to the Maternal Fetal Medicine office for a final and extremely detailed sonogram considering my lack of prenatal care. We all wanted the least amount of surprises possible, all things considered. These people look at fetuses all day everyday unlike the imaging center I'd been to prior. This was also my last chance before delivery to find out if we were having a girl a boy.

The sex of the baby wasn't as important to me as the health of the baby, duh. But my family just HAD to know. My mother thought Joel and I already knew, and at one point threatened to cut me out of her will if I didn't tell her. My mom is very intuitive, since day 1 of my pregnancy, or should I say, day 242, my Mom kept saying I was having a girl. Damn that woman for always being right. ALWAYS. I arrived at the hospital for my appointment, checked in at the front desk and they directed me to my appointment. The MFM office was on the same floor as Labor and Delivery. Cool, I can see where the action is going to happen. I made my way to the elevator bank and waited there for what seemed like forever. Oh great, when I'm actually in labor I'm going to have this baby right here on the floor waiting for ONE of the EIGHT elevators to arrive. This isn't going well.

I walk into the office, check in at the desk. The nurse asks me if I'm in the right place. "Yes I am, I'm Jennifer, here for my 8:45 appointment."

"But it says you're 37 weeks pregnant?" she responds.

"I am." I reply. At this point I can feel all of the heavily pregnant women in the waiting room burning a hole through my back with their death stares. At 37 weeks, I looked about 20 weeks pregnant and felt FINE. They hated me. One of the women couldn't even get up when her name was called without the help of her husband, who by the way let out an audible grunt as he hoisted his wife off of her chair. I basically hold court in the waiting room telling all of the waiting mothers, their spouses and half the staff my story while waiting for my turn. Its confirmed, they hate me.

The sonogram tech was a sweetheart. At this point I was still asking a million questions and she answered every single one. This sonogram appointment took over an hour. She examined every organ my baby had in detail and took about 50 screen shots for my chart. She tells me my baby is perfect. Five-ish pounds of PERFECT. After everything my body had been through, my baby somehow managed to develop into a perfect human. Then she asks if I want to know the sex of the baby. OF COURSE I DO. I knew so little about this pregnancy there was no way in hell I didn't want to know. She points to the screen. "Do you see that?" I had no idea what she was referring to so I say no. "Exactly, we are looking at the lack there of. You are having a healthy baby girl."

The sonogram that shows her lady parts

I was relieved. I'd wanted a girl because research shows that girls are stronger in the womb, and after what I'd put this baby through, she needed to be strong. Also, I wasn't too keen on the idea of all those extra parts I'd have to rearrange during a diaper change. We'd already decided on names. "Jordan Faris" if it was a girl and "Jamison David" if it was a boy. Faris is a family name on my side of the family, and David is a family name on Joel's side, as well as Joel's middle name. We weren't allowed to spell it "Jameson" because that's a whiskey and our baby had already had it's fair share of alcohol. I liked the name Jordan for a boy OR girl, but that was immediately shot down by Joel and my family. Apparently they felt that Jordan is the name of the boy that gets beat up on the playground. Apologies to anyone who is a male Jordan or knows one.

I leave the appointment and turn my phone back on. Obviously, I have to tell Joel first. This killed my mother and sister. They'd been texting me during the entire appointment inquiring if I knew the sex yet. I text them back saying I knew the sex, but I was telling Joel first. Oh man, they did NOT like that. I called Joel and he didn't answer! Rude, he knew I had an appointment. I could be in labor right now and he doesn't answer his phone! This better not be a sign of what happens when its really time. He works for the Union doing manual labor and can't always answer his phone, but my pregnant self does not care about that. So I wait. He finally calls back. I tell him we are having a healthy baby girl! My big, rough and tough baby daddy didn't say anything at first. Then when he finally does speak, I hear it in his voice, he is crying. My now-husband has a history of autism in his family and the odds are higher in boys so hearing we are having a girl was a relief to him.

Now we wait. Baby girl could come whenever she wants. I have OB appointments once a week from here on out. At my next appointment I've given a worksheet with a bunch of questions on it to take home and fill out with Joel.

Who do I want in the delivery room? A doctor would be nice. And I guess Joel too. 
Would we be vaccinating our baby? Yes please.
After she is born do we want her to receive antibiotic eye treatment? Is this a thing?
Vitamin K? Not the rave drug right?
Formula or breastfeeding? Breastfeeding if I can. Because formula isn't cheap ya'll.
Delayed cord cutting? What even is this?
Would I like to preserve my placenta?  Nope. Nope. Nope. I'm not eating that. 
Natural labor or epidural? How many times to I have to tell you people? Drugs. I want all the drugs.

Back to the internet I go. That lasted about two seconds before I called my Mom. Like I said, that woman is always right. She guided me through the questions and that was that.

From here on out every text, Facebook message, Snapchat or phone call I made was responded to with "is it time?" No Mom/Dad/Sister/Baby Daddy, I'm calling you in a panic about my latest irrational fear or dream I had that my epidural worked backwards and numbed the upper half of my body, my baby came out missing an ear, or I had her in the bathroom at Target. My biggest non-irrational fear was that Joel would miss the whole damn thing. He worked over an hour away. During rush hour, that hour could turn into three. I told him I wouldn't give her his last name if he missed the birth. Cause I'm mature like that.

The first time we both felt our baby girl move

Opinions are like Assholes

The realization that I was going to be a Mother in a matter of weeks had finally set it. We had the nursery set up, we had tons of diapers, wipes, clothes, baby containers and equipment. We were physically ready to bring a baby home. But I wasn't ready to deliver said baby. I had only know the baby was inside me for a few days, I wanted more time! Up until now, I had Joel, my parents, his parents, and our friends piling on the advice on what to do once the baby arrives. But ultimately, it was up to me and only me to actually get this baby out of me. No amount of advice can prepare a woman for that. To say I was petrified wouldn't do my feelings any justice. I wasn't scared about caring for the baby, I was scared about what my body was going have to go through.

I had choices to make. I knew right away that I wasn't going to be one of those Mom's who birthed a baby on the living room floor in a baby pool at home. My body has proven to be far to unpredictable. Any time I needed something medical done I end up with every complication known to man. I am medically challenged. I am the 1% complication rate, always have been and probably always will be. I needed to be in a hospital in the event that something went wrong. With an OR down the hall in case a C-Section was necessary and a NICU in case my baby needed extra care. Thank GOD I did give birth in a hospital because odds are, if I didn't, my baby wouldn't be here today. 

Let me spell one thing out for you. Giving birth is the hardest, most painful thing a woman does in her entire life. Birthing a child is comparable to breaking 20 bones at the same time. The human body can tolerate 45 units of pain. While giving birth, a Mother can feel up to 57 units. Read: Women are hands-down the stronger sex. HOW a woman chooses to give birth is nobody's choice but her own. Sorry Dads, Sisters, Friends, Mothers, MIL's, you don't get a say. Period. My MIL suggested I choose and un-medicated home birth, my cousin Carrie suggested I chose an un-medicated birth at a birthing center in a bath tub, my mother suggested giving birth in a hospital with an epidural. I chose to give birth MY way so I am in no way criticizing or judging women who chose another method. To each their own. So please don't view my blog as my advocating for pain relief or shaming Moms who choose to forgo it. Moving on. 

Joel was born at home. More power to my Mother In Law for choosing an un-medicated home birth. I have nothing but respect for that woman for enduring that. I don't think I could have done it. She even tried to give me a book about having a home birth, but I politely declined. That just wasn't for me. I wanted every pain management option available. I literally asked the triage nurse for an epidural before I even told her my name when we checked into the hospital. I have endured a lot of pain in my life through 15+ surgeries, a few broken bones, some stitches and a handful of hospital stays. I didn't have a choice but to experience pain through all of that. But while giving birth, I had a choice. A choice to be numb from the waist down and not have to feel that pain. Getting that epidural was the best decision I'd made to date. Bottom line, it was my choice and I'm damn proud of it. In my mind, it was like choosing to have surgery with or without anesthesia. Choosing to get stitches or having a bone set with or without lidocaine. I wanted the drugs. All of them. 

Not one blog I write would be complete without including something about my hilarious Mom. Warning, this might get graphic. Let's talk about my vagina. My mom took it upon herself to scare the living shit out of me by describing in graphic detail what was going to happen to my vagina and how it would feel. I'm surprised she didn't use visual aids such as a watermelon or cantaloupe. She told me in detail about the probability that I would tear from vagina to asshole. I might end up with a "vag-anus". Thankfully, I ended up one degree short of that. She told me I'd bleed for nearly six weeks after the birth and the chunks of tissue that would fall out of me would be the size of a ping pong balls. As usual, she was right. So very right. Holy hell. Nothing can prepare you for that feeling and seeing what your body expels afterwards. NOTHING. It was like a damn crime scene every time I went to the bathroom. My cousin, Carrie, said she felt like she got "f**ked by a walrus". I had never seen a walrus' penis, so I googled it. That was a terrible idea. But at the end of it, she was right. That is exactly how Labor and Delivery should be described. 

Bottom line, opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one. I made it real simple for Joel because it is very important that you tell your partner what you want regarding birth in case you are unable to speak for yourself. He would be my advocate in the event I couldn't advocate for myself. I told him I wanted all the drugs, and I wanted to leave that hospital intact with a healthy baby. If I ended up needing a C-Section, OK fine, do it. I certainly didn't go to medical school so I was not going to argue with the people who did. All that mattered to me was that I got the drugs and both me and my baby didn't die. THAT was my birth plan. The End. 

Spoiler Alert: I got the drugs and we both lived. 

Our first selfie together

All. The. Things.

It took a while for me to recover from my panic attack about the way that this baby would have to exit my body. But I eventually calmed down. It's not like I had a choice anyway. As I've said before, you can't stop a train. Joel and I arrive at the shore, walk in the door and are greeted by my parents. The first thing Joel says is "yep, it's real, there's a baby in there!". I hang the sonogram picture up on the fridge. My father is over the moon, I didn't know until this point, but he'd always wanted to be a Gramps. His name was already set in stone as we'd been calling him "Gramps" for some time now in reference to his relationship with my two doggies. My Mother pretended she was indifferent.  She kept saying "I won't be that kind of grandmother" which later would prove to be a huge lie. The one thing she was adamant about was that she would NOT be called Grandma or any variation of that word. So "Sudie" it is.

We settle in and start talking about what we need. Lists. So many lists. I made the mistake of googling "new baby checklist" and oh my goodness. ALL THE THINGS. There are SO many things that the internet says are must haves for welcoming a baby. My Mother immediately squashed more than half of the items that the internet said we'd need. Of course I wanted the best of everything for our baby, sparing no cost. My Mother kept reminding me that people have been having babies and raising children just fine for hundreds of years without the help of luxury baby items. A "wipe warmer" for example. Because clearly my baby is too good for a cold butt wipe and it was essential we spend $24.99 to remedy that. A "pee pee teepee" was another good one. This is used to prevent a baby boy's pee from spraying all over the place during a diaper change. Really? I'm sure there is nothing else that can be used to prevent that and it was imperative that we spend $9.95 for this revolutionary invention.

We needed essentials and we needed them now. Technically, once I got to 37 weeks I'd be considered full term. Still, our baby was already viable outside the womb even at 35 weeks. We had to move quick. Car seat. Crib. Diapers. STAT. My Mother had already gone on amazon and ordered us a top of the line car seat that would last until baby was 90lbs. So that was amazing. One thing crossed off the list! Once word was spread everywhere except for social media, the outpouring of love and support was amazing. Joel and I got a beautiful crib and an awesome off road stroller from a co-worker of my Father. My friend Rachael gave us an infant car seat, a baby Bjorn carrier, and a ton of clothes. My other friend Lauren gave us a Rock 'n Play and a bunch of toys. The Amazon boxes started piling up at the house filled with gifts from all our friends and family. Side note, WHY is everything for a baby end in "'n Play"? Rock 'n Play, Pack 'n Play, Pop 'n Play, and Sleep 'n Play. I don't get it. These are items for infants. How much "playing" do they really do?

The next morning my Mom went to the store. She returned and proudly announced that she had purchased me my first baby related item. My excitement quickly dwindled when she handed over my "gift". I was expecting a cute onesie that said "Worlds Greatest Mommy" or something along those lines. Nope. I should have known better. Boob Pads. My FIRST baby related item was nursing pads, 100 nursing pads. Because as she so eloquently put it, "You're gonna leak milk everywhere." Thanks Mom. My amazing sister came to the shore later that day and brought me what I consider my first REAL baby gift, a Baltimore Ravens onesie. Thank you sister for understanding whats really important. My Patriots fan baby Daddy wasn't so happy, but he said he'd tolerate it because it came from my sister.

I know I've been giving my Mother a hard time in all my posts, but in reality, her humor really helped me get through the times where I felt totally unprepared and out of control. She was truly my rock through it all and I'll never be able to thank her enough. That weekend she took me to Target for my first experience in the baby department. Holy baby stuff Batman. It was unbelievable. To say I was overwhelmed would be the understatement of the century. I left Target with a greater understanding of how expensive a baby is, a few unisex onesies, and Joels first baby gift, a Star Wars tee shirt for the baby. I wanted his first Dad gift to be better than something comparable to boob pads.

That weekend our relationship status on Facebook went from "in a relationship" to "engaged".  Now I'm sure some of you are thinking that we only got married because of the baby. Even IF that was the case, which it was definitely not, it's not your place to judge so you can STFU with that noise. Joel had literally asked me to marry him every single day since January. I knew I was going to marry him, I just didn't know when. My being pregnant had no bearing on my decision to say "yes". Joel had already been in talks with my parents, asked for their blessing, and my Mom even gave him a family heirloom engagement ring to give to me. He proposed in a beautiful way in a beautiful place, and this time, I didn't say no.

The first REAL baby gift

Engaged! July 4, 2017