I don't know if it's because I've been pregnant and given birth before, or because this was my second pregnancy and everything is a bit...looser, but I slowly started to feel my body change shortly after my due date became a distant memory. I was having pretty consistent but relatively painless contractions a few days before shit got real but my doctor appointments revealed nothing really happening - baby was still relatively high and I was barely dilated. So he scheduled me an induction, not being very confident that McBun was ready to be evicted. So, knowing it would be my last, I made one more homemade chocolate cake and frosting for after my homemade Eggplant Parmesan. (TOOT! TOOT!) Seven hours later is when shit got real.
I woke up around 2:45am with contractions I couldn't pretend were an uncomfortable dream. I loaded up my Contraction Timer app and settled in for a day of mind-numbing pain. But what was this? My contractions were coming five to ten minutes apart? No, that's not right. Like labor with Zoey, they were supposed to come 20 minutes apart for 25 hours, giving me plenty of time to prepare for this sadistically blessed event. And - most importantly - make sure I got the epidural before shit got really real.
By 8am, I could no longer walk during a contraction, standing made it feel like all of my insides were going to fall out of my butt, and screaming became a very real possibility. At 8:04am we were on the road to the hospital, which is - thankfully - only about three miles away. With only 30ish seconds in between searing pain, Jacob thoroughly enjoyed driving like a maniac a la every movie or TV show with a birth you've ever seen. I went through triage and was granted permission into the Chamber of Everything Changes, literally telling everyone I came in contact with that I'd be needing a visit from the Epidural Man. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page: I wanted an epidural.
Epidural Man turned out to be Epidural Lady and arrived sans cart o' drugs in tow.
"Oh, I forgot to get the cart, I haven't been able to leave her (me)," said my nurse, who, in my pain-delirious state, reminded me of a My Little Pony.
"Where is one?" asked Epidural Lady. Are you fucking kidding me?! Why do you not tug around two at a time just for moments such as these?!
"There's one down by triage," Nurse MLP informed Epidural Lady. Run! Run like the wind, Lady!
The sacred cart finally arrived, and the pain and fear gently subsided as the warmth of a local anesthetic slowly ran down my legs and into my toes.
Completely relaxed, I was able to rest up for the main event but was still having contractions like gang-busters. After monitoring my contractions for a while, the nurses informed me that I was having irritants - like, mini-contractions - in between my main contractions. Apparently, my body was taking no prisoners. Although I could not - Praise the Lord! - feel much of what was going on down south, the nurses told me I was progressing quickly and estimated McBun would be born by 2pm that afternoon, a far cry from Zoey's birth, which took another 13 hours after checking into the hospital, even after being given Pitocin.
Shortly after 11am, Nurse MLP began rolling me from side to side (hour on one side, hour on the other) in an effort to get McBun further down. I could vaguely feel my contractions and she said her goal was for me to feel the urge to push. I wasn't really sure what she meant by this, with Zoey, they just told me it was time to push, I cried and said, "I DON'T WANNA!" and then I pushed. But oh holy crap, there it was! It wasn't so much an urge to push as it was something trying to push its way out of me. The doctor requested I perform a test-push then declared me ready to have a baby.
Once, twice, three times, McBun was born! At 12:40pm, weighing in at 7 pounds, 2 ounces, 19 3/4 inches long. And so, we are pleased to introduce the newest star of Montana Roadtrippin', Mr. Holden Darcy McIntyre.