{part two}
When we pulled up to the emergency room entrance, everyone exited the car but Papa and me. The car still needed parking and I just could not move.
I love to move around during labor. The more movement, the better the baby's position and the better my body works. But this time, I felt like we might not make it all the way to labor and delivery if I so much as stood up.
So I asked for a wheelchair, not caring what anyone thought of me and eased my body in to that seat saying a silent affirmation oh, sweet baby boy.. please don't come down just yet.
I was wheeled to the little window at the entrance of labor and delivery. I breathed a small sigh of relief. We had made it all the way up here and the baby was still inside me! But my rejoice was quickly dampened by realization.
A thick layer of glass separated me from the admissions clerk. She was a woman just like me. Yet I found no sympathy with her for our situation. She had made it apparently clear that we were not going anywhere until she had some information first. Amid the swirls and whirls of my mind, and in between the scribbles of information I jotted down, I was able to find humor in my confusion.
Isn't this the part where they frantically wheel the screaming woman in to a room so she can quickly deliver the baby that is crowning and afterwards everyone can have a good laugh about how close they were to delivering a baby in the hallway?
[Queue reality -- Apparently it's extremely important for hospital staff to get signatures on paperwork and insurance information, even if you already pre-registered in advance. And even months later, after you have filled out and signed enough paperwork to be considered for a home loan, you will find that information to have been input in to their system incorrectly.]
So I did what they asked in between contractions and signed what probably looks nothing like my signature on their forms. A nurse came back to let us know my room was ready for me, but the admitting staff was still needing more information.
I was beginning to have hard rushes and sitting down during them sucked to put it lightly. Bear could sense this and she immediately went in to action, just like she always does. I am forever grateful to have a partner that is so in tune with my needs that I don't ever have to make mention of them.
She told them to take me and she would be right behind us. What? I wanted to yell screw them and what they need, just come with me. But I somehow hadn't completely lost my mind at that point and thought it might be considered a little obnoxious.
It's quite funny how polite I remained during all of this. Looking back now it's obvious.. if you want people to believe you are going to have a baby at any given moment, you need to scream and be ridiculously dramatic. Smiling in between waves of intensity, saying please and thank you, breathing deep and hard while concentrating, will get you absolutely nowhere.
As soon as we arrived at the delivery room I stood up. Standing there frozen in place, I looked up at Daddy and said oh $%*#! and before we knew it there was amniotic fluid everywhere. I had a feeling this would happen and I was so thankful for asking for that wheelchair.
At this point I felt the baby fully engage. The nurse began leisurely asking me a series of questions. In between shallow breaths and waves of intensity I half-answered the few I thought were actually important.
"how long are your contractions and how far apart?"..
um, i don't know
I frantically tore at my clothing, stripping down while shouting orders at Daddy to get my night gown out of my bag. a simple brown gown with light pink piping. It was one of two gowns I picked out when I was pregnant with McQueen. I now have both tucked away in a drawer as keepsakes.
"what number baby is this for you?"..
uhh, this will be my fourth delivery
"baby number four!?"
yeah, this ain't my first rodeo
Yes, those words actually came out of my mouth and it wouldn't be the last time they did that night.
[even more to come..]
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