I noticed some spotting on a Tuesday night before bed, but I ignored it. The next morning, I noticed I was having contractions, but I decided to go to work anyway--per my usual stubborn personality.
At school, I started keeping track, and they were about ten minutes apart. Eventually, they eased off, though, so I knew it wasn't the "real deal." That morning, my doctor told me I was in the early stages of active labor, but I knew that could mean hours or days, so I didn't get my hopes up. By fourth block, however, things had changed. As I stood on the podium looking out to my fourth block, I felt pain stronger than before, and I started thinking it could be the last time I might see those students for a while.
One student overheard me say to a coworker that I was in active labor.
As I started teaching, he interrupted me: "How can you stand there acting like it's a normal day when YOU JUST TOLD SOMEONE YOU WERE IN ACTIVE LABOR!?!?"
Of course, the whole class went nuts. It was hilarious. I told them that it wasn't a big deal, and I didn't even really know what that meant. I had a couple smart boys decide to look it up: "IT'S WHEN THE CERVIX IS RIPENING AND PREPARING FOR BIRTH!"
Oh my gosh, LET'S NOT HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT THIS NOW, GUYS.
What a moment.
Nothing got done that day. I kept feeling contractions and getting more uncomfortable, and they were waiting for me to spontaneously sneeze a baby out.
"DON'T STAND UP, MRS. TAYLOR. IT COULD HAPPEN AT ANY TIME!"
"SIT DOWN. I SAID SIT DOWN!"
"GO HOME. WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?"
They were one of my favorite classes I've ever taught, and they weren't being malicious. They were legitimately concerned, and it was hilarious.
As they were leaving for the day, I seriously said, "See you guys tomorrow!" and one student said, "There won't be a tomorrow 'cause YOU'RE HAVIN' A BABY TONIGHT!"
I was still in denial at this point.
I did what any crazy woman in labor does, and I went to get my favorite meal from Chic File. Ah, yes. Come to me, tacos.
Then I went to Target. Because why not? I figured if this was it for a while, I needed to live it up.
As I was walking, I started feeling something...well...leak? Gross, I know. I ignored this new symptom and kept walking. Shoes! Clothes! Baby stuff! Distraction was key!
Then it happened again...and again...so I called my best friend. "Yeah, something is going on, but I'm fine. I'm walking around, and then I'll head home. Oh, there it goes again! Ha." My friend responded with this: "You need to get to the hospital, Di! Your water is breaking."
But I was determined!
I went to the frozen section and grabbed ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS worth of food. I was freaking out a little because we had no food in the house. HOW WILL WE SURVIVE BECAUSE TWO CHILDREN WILL NEVER ALLOW US TO LEAVE AND WE WILL STARRRRVEEEE.
I then drove home to prop my feet on the couch and chow down. My friend called me again: "You really should go to the hospital."
"I will, I will. I just need to eat before I go. I'm so hungry! And I know I won't be able to eat when I get there! Plus, I doubt it's ACTUALLY happening."
After I finished my meal, I drove myself to the hospital because that's my style.
Within thirty minutes, I was told that my water broke, and I was going into labor. HOLY MOLY.
Just like the first pregnancy, my plan was to go all-natural, mainly because I was terrified of getting a shot in my spine. But I was also willing to be easier on myself--I worked all day, I had a toddler, and I needed to be at my best. Plus, my first all-natural labor experience was, quite frankly, terrifying and traumatic--not to mention excruciatingly painful.
Dana and Justin showed up once the kids were all taken care of back home. We hung out for quite a while because I was putting off my epidural decision. The contractions got worse, but they never really progressed--just like the first time. Then I heard the dreaded word: pitosin. Nooo, not this again. I had it with my first, and that's when everything got so intense. That changed everything. Not again. So I waited another few hours of indecision before I decided to get an epidural. I was at 6-7 cm at that point, and the pain was enough that I was going to be very, very happy for some relief.
The doctor came in with the shot. I remember being pretty nervous, but he put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I had any questions. He was so comforting and kind, and I was put completely at ease.
The epidural was practically painless, and it went very smoothly. Nurses were commenting on how well it went. Then everything changed. I was laughing, smiling--enjoying my time! I couldn't feel a thing! I was watching the contractions on the monitor without feeling A THING. It was GLORIOUS!! At that point, I was repeating how ridiculous it was for me to have been afraid the first time, along with how foolish it was to go through such trauma. Thank God for epidurals!
I decided to take a nap because it was probably 3 or 4 a.m. at that point. Next thing I know, the doctor came in to check me. "You're 9 centimeters. Read to push?"
"UMMMMM SURE!"
Four pushes, and that sweet little girl was out. Amazing.
No complications. No pooping. No tearing. No trauma.
I kid you not, I was already thinking about the next baby I was totally ready to have at that point. (Not realistically, but in the moment of endorphins, it was totally a possibility.)
Arianna nursed for an hour and a half right after she was born. It was incredible.
Basically, everything that went wrong the first time went right the second time, and I am so, so glad for having both experiences.
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