11/11/11

Two years ago today I begged for the little baby inside of me to come out.  Prayed.  Then begged the doctor to induce me.  Yes, I wanted an 11/11/11 baby.   But that wasn't the only reason.  Mostly I just wanted a baby.  I wanted to sleep more than 5 minutes without having to pee.  I wanted to roll over in bed without asking Josh to push me.  I wanted to walk without waddling.  

So I prayed some more.   Then begged some more.  I had an appointment that morning, so I asked my doctor as logically as possible to induce me.

First off, I had PUPPPS, which he usually induced people for.  At that point he looked in my chart and realized he had never written down that I had PUPPPS.  Nice.

Secondly, to have enough time to recover I really needed to have the baby on a Friday so I could have the help at home over the weekend.

Third, I had extra fluid, possible IUGR, a possible infection (which I did, why don't people believe me when I say my water partially broke, it can happen!), was on partial bed-rest, and had a subchorionic hematoma.  At this point I needed a whole hospital staff to deliver this baby (instead I only had a nurse when he was born).

Fourth, and extra important.  I was dilated to a 4, A 4!!!  I had been for 3 weeks.  So technically I had been in labor for 3 weeks already, so let's get this thing over with.  Isn't that what hospitals are known for?  Pushing labor as quickly as possible.

Fifth, and probably most important.  I had two due dates.  One on 11/13/11 and the other on 11/20/11.  Ummm, with how massive I was shouldn't you error on the side of caution and assume I'm almost due anyways?

He laughed and walked out of the room.  Never to be seen again.  Okay, well he showed up when the hospital discharged me, but I kinda wish I'd never seen him again.


My plans were spoiled.  Massively spoiled.  Josh worked late that night and I went on a long walk.  Okay, so I walked for a half hour and only went about a mile.  You should have seen the stares I got from passing cars.  I was surprised none of them stopped and asked if I needed a ride to the hospital.  I was crying when Josh came home.  No, crying doesn't cut it, bawling.

Poor, poor, poor Josh.  He did what any good husband would do, he took me to dinner.  To an authentic Mexican place.  He lured me by saying that spicy food could help.  Then he found funny shows to watch convincing me that I could laugh it out.  Or maybe if I laughed hard enough my water would break.  If you had to ask then you don't know a very pregnant me very well, yes, I cried myself to sleep.

Little did I know when I sat down to eat my tamales that I was 12 hours away from going to the hospital, and 20 hours away from having a baby.  Here is a little bit about Michael's birth.  A lot of things went wrong.  But I'll never forget how small he was when I first held him.  Happy almost Birthday buddy.  I'll write a post only about you tomorrow.