Sunday, February 14, 2010

This Time Last Year: The Finale

(Before I begin, I'd like to take a moment to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PALOMA! YOU'RE AN AWESOME LITTLE CHICK WITH A BIG, RAD LIFE AHEAD OF YOU, AND WE'RE IN THIS THING TOGETHER! Right now the birthday girl is sleeping. When she wakes up, we're going to walk over to the NICU to drop off a donation of wire-friendly preemie gowns. We plan to make this a yearly tradition.)

In this final installment of This Time Last Year, I had just checked back into the hospital. I'd been released earlier in the day with a prescription for bed rest and the possibility of getting pills to take whenever the contractions started back up again. I'm ashamed to say that we didn't go right home after I was released, but made a quick stop at the market for alfredo sauce supplies. It's not like I walked *much* and they let me walk out of the hospital, after all.

When we arrived at home, Tedd set me up in bed with my laptop and we logged in to World of Warcraft along with some friends to run an instance with our lowbies. As you might imagine, even after being told that I'd probably go full term, the contractions returned as we played. I was logging them on a scrap of paper, but didn't really consider going back to the hospital immediately since we were scheduled to go back around 5:30 p.m. for a second steroid shot.

Fast forward...

I was re-admitted as soon as I told the nurse I was having contractions again. Re-attached to the fetal monitor. The midwife on duty -- the woman who sold us our house, coincidentally -- was summoned. And suddenly all the people who'd been telling me that I wasn't going to have a baby were looking at their shoes.

Fast forward again...

At seven-ish, I've dilated quite a bit. The midwife lets Tedd go home to get supplies and a sandwich, but only because she knows where we live. At around 8:30 p.m. that whole transition business went down, and at 8:45 p.m. Paloma slooshed into the world. For those who have never given birth, the whole process was just as slimy and hurty and bizarre as you might imagine!


But then they clean the baby up. Unfortunately, no one takes the time to clean the poor mother up, so while Paloma looked all sweet and clean, I had dirty hair and no makeup and was wearing naught but a blanket, an ill-fitting bra, and a hospital gown all ruched up about my middle. Preeeeetty!

AND THAT, MY FRIENDS, IS HOW BABBY FORMED. You can read the full story here, though I'm not sure why you'd want to.

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