Neville: A Birth Story

June 12, 2012 § 2 Comments

brand new

brand new

Three weeks late, I know…

Monday the 21st started out like any other day. I got up and went to the restroom to pee… And that’s when I noticed that’s when I started spotting. No big deal, I thought. It’s totally normal at the end of your pregnancy. Didn’t think any of it until I came home after I dropped off the preschooler and having minor discomfort. Ten am rolls around and the contractions are twelve minutes apart.

At eleven after picking up Nattie, I start to panic because OMG I DIDN’T EVEN FINISH PACKING THE DAMN BAGA ND WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO!? And I still had Natalie’s bag to pack. My husband got home at noon and we dropped off Natalie at my aunt’s house and end up staying there for around five hours timing contractions and such.

My husband decides that it’s time to go to the hospital since the contractions are five minutes apart, even though I tell him it’s not time yet. So we make the almost half hour trip only to find out I’m only two cm dilated. They monitor my contractions for two hours and I only dilate ONE SINGLE CM so I was given the option to go home (eat) or stay, so we leave to go get burgers and head to my aunt’s house to wait out the contractions.

Ten pm rolls by and contractions are painful but I’m not in tears yet. The tears don’t come until two am because SON OF A BASILISK these contractions are breaking my bones apart and SHUT THE FRONT DOOR OF MORDOR is this what the Cruciatus Curse feels like? My husband is trying to be uber supportive by giving me back massages and asking me what he can do and all I picture myself doing is strangling him and blaming rage blackouts. The only place that is comfortable at this point is the cold bare floor and clawing my aunt’s cushions, rocking back and forth on my knees and crying my eyes out.

Right after two am is when my husband is losing his mind because he’s probably a mind reader and saw what I was doing to him in my head.

We get to the hospital at 2:40 or something (I’m not entirely sure because I was no longer tweeting) where I’m told that I’m 8cm dilated and if I had waited a bit more, I would probably have had a home birth and twenty minutes later at 3:03, Neville Andrew is born, 6 pounds and 9 ounces of pure cuteness, but not before MY WATER BREAKS AND IT ALL LANDS ON MY POOR HUSBAND’S FACE, HAIR, AND SHIRT.

And then we went from a family of three to a family of four and my heart swelled two times bigger.

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