On Christmas Eve 2007, I prayed for a baby. I don’t know what made me close my eyes in church and just full out ask God for a baby, but I did. Maybe it was the inspirational Christmas pageant starring my neice as a stable chicken obsessively worshipping the Baby Jesus, but something came over me.
About a month later, I was on the floor rubbing scuff marks off the hardwoods and I started to feel ill.
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Coach said jokingly.
I waited a few days before I bought a test at the drugstore. While Coach sipped his morning coffee, I quietly opened the packaging and followed the directions. I was so hopeful as I waited… it took less than three minutes & it was confirmed. PREGNANT.
PREGNANT. PREGNANT. PREGNANT. Coach was in disbelief.
At six weeks, our pregnancy was confirmed with a tentative due date of smack dab in the middle of FOOTBALL SEASON!
Foolishly, we thought that babies arrived when it was convenient for us. Since I wanted a natural childbirth, being induced was out of the question. I tried everything to get Babycakes to come — ate pineapple with a religious passion, curb walked, played on the playground swings (until the neighborhood kids came over to gawk), & even went for a bumpy off-road Jeep ride.
Football season began and I startled many fans with each game that I continued to attend.
At Homecoming…
“So, how many weeks are you now?”
41
“When are you due?”
6 days ago
Finally, two days after Homecoming & four days before Coach was on a bus to Kentucky, my midwife decided that the only option was to induce. We met her at the hospital on a Monday afternoon so that she could break my water.
We were told to be prepared — it could take all night, after all it was our first baby. First timers often take 18-24 hours of labor, so we were instructed to order dinner and just get comfortable.
By the time my turkey sandwich arrived, my contractions were FOUR minutes apart. The smell of Coach’s pork tenderloin & mashed potatoes was making me ill. I ran to the bathroom where I beat my head against the tile just to feel something other than contractions. (I didn’t hit it hard, pinky promise.)
“Are you okay in there?”
It hurts so bad.
“Do you want some fruit?”
No, I don’t want to eat! I’m in labor!
“How ’bout a strawberry?”
Our nurse, who will remain nameless, continued to tell me for hours that I was not in REAL labor, that my contractions were erratic and would settle down and space out soon. Then, they were two minutes apart.
“Want your sandwich?”
I do not want food!
All of my preparation- reading about natural childbirth and practicing all the relaxation techniques failed me when it was “game time.” It didn’t help that the nurse would not validate what I was feeling & continued to leave me alone with Coach who was offering me food & running me through a training circuit. My mid-wife, who normally would have been with me, was delivering another baby in the next room. When she was finished, she came to check on me, calmed me down, calmed Coach down, and to the nurse’s SHOCK, I was almost 8 centimeters dilated.
Six hours after we arrived, we were holding our sweet Babycakes in our arms. Our lives have never been the same — she brings so much JOY to our family!
