Labour Part I
When Milk asked me when he thought our baby would be born, I reached deep into my Feminine Intuition and pulled a random date out of my ass.* “January 8th”, I said. “Oh, you think you’ll go a week early?” “Yes”, I replied, with all the earnest conviction of someone bullshitting mightily. Our due date was January 14th.
So when week 38 rolled into week 39, and still no sign of baby, I assumed that my first baby would be late, as many first babies often are. On the morning of the 7th, I turned to Milk and said “Remember when I thought it would be the 8th of January? Yeah, not a chance.” He probably made some consoling remarks, but I couldn’t hear them over my own beluga whale-like squeaks as I attempted to roll out of bed.
That afternoon, we went to visit my sister. I had a constant, dull ache in my lower back. The 30 minute drive, however, exasperated the issue. By the time we got sis’ house, I was in agony. I assured her that I’d had back pain for weeks now, and really, all I had to do was get down on all fours and the Last Starfighter would rotate back around into position and I would feel better. I spent the visit kneeling over a chair with a heating pad on my back. After a while, I felt much better. The drive back home wasn’t as bad, but the pain still ramped up.
We had intended to go to dinner and a movie with K, Milk’s heterosexual life partner (ie: the best man at our wedding) that evening, but I decided to bail. My back was sore, and I didn’t relish the thought of sitting in an uncomfortable movie theatre chair for a couple of hours, even for the likes of Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law and homoerotic subtext. “You go,” I told Milk. “Spend some time with your buddy because once the baby gets here, movies will be a thing of the past.” Milk, being the paranoid worrier that he is, decided to skip the movie, just get dinner, and bring me take-out on the way to dropping K off at his house.
I went to bed early and spent some time reading, watching TV and generally having some quality Me time. Lying down eased the pain of my back considerably, and when Milk showed up, food in hand, I told him to go hang out at K’s house for a bit. I tucked into the takeout meal (my favourite from the restaurant where Milk and I had our first date). I only managed to eat half, and put the second half in the fridge for later.
Milk came home about an hour later, and I went to bed at 11pm. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. He stayed up and read until midnight, then turned the light off and tried to get some sleep. Apparently it took him a while.
At 1am, I felt a pop in my pelvis, and a gush. I went from fast asleep to on my feet in about 0.0025th of a second, and ran around my side of the bed for a bit, leaking amniotic fluid everywhere. Yeah, I’m not the brightest spark in the bonfire when I’m suddenly woken up. Milk, hearing my panicked footsteps, goes, “Whaaaa?”, having just fallen asleep about 20 minutes ago. I froze, in mid-scarper, and said “My water just broke!”
After checking with me about half a dozen times that I was sure that it was my water, and not me peeing myself, Milk paged the midwife, while I attempted to not leak all over our tiny house. I had visions of our furniture being washed away in a flood of ewwwww. The younger of our cats remained fast asleep on the bed. His animal instincts are about as sharp as my feminine ones. I have no clue where the other cat was, but again, if the house ever caught on fire or if a burglar broke in, I doubt we could depend on the furry inhabitants of our house to step up and save the day.
The midwife called us back pretty much immediately, though she had been woken up from a solid sleep. She asked what the colour of the fluid was (clear), was there blood (yes, lots of pink blood), were there any contractions (none at all), any pain (nope) fever (nuh-uh). She determined that I was not in labour, and that labour would start some time in the next 24 hours. Since I wasn’t in pain, or having contractions, and since the waters were clear, I should take some Tylenol and perhaps a Gravol and try and get some sleep. If I had no signs of labour by the following evening, I would be induced.
Disappointed that we might have to wait an entire day, Milk and I went to bed, after doing some cleaning and putting a towel down.
At 1:15am, my contractions hit.
*Yes, I store my Feminine Intuition in my ass. That way, when Milk asks if I farted, I can respond with “No, no, that was my Feminine Intuition.”**
**Yup, my Feminine Intuition stinks. No gaydar, either.