the next thing i know, in comes a sweaty yann running through the door. panting, he asks me if the baby is coming. surely he must be mocking me - but, nonetheless, i appreciate the sweetness in his gesture. just like juno, i tell him, "sorry, i was on the hamburger phone..." (for those of you who don't own one, it's a nice novelty piece but let's just say that i wouldn't count on it saving me in a life and death 911 situation) "...you can go back to work, everything is ok. i'll be fine." to which he retorts, with a hint of frustration in his voice, "i can't go back to work, i just sent my client home - after having thrown the machine down, telling my colleague to wrap him up while half way out the door." not that i needed more reasons, but this is why i love him so much. anyways, i'm not going to start swooning again... back to business. so, yann's home, i'm feeling much better and i'm out of the hot tub. i get up to get dressed and feel warm liquid trickling down my legs. mind you, at this point, i'm tired, physically and mentally and my first - and only - thought is, "good job, asshole. you just peed yourself." i had always been told that when my water broke, it would feel like niagra falls and that i'd know for sure that's what it was. so, i wash up, put on a pair of panties with a liner and go into the kitchen where yann is fixing lunch. he informs me that he's got a friend coming in from france that night so we might have people over. frankly, we could have a party for all i care - obviously this baby is never coming out so i might as well resume back to my "normal" life.
it's about 4 PM and we decide - dog, belly and panty liner in tow - to make our way to the st-ambroise terrace, just a few blocks from home, for an afternoon with friends and our french visitor - they have beer and i settle on a hot dog with nachos and a ginger ale. that's right. i'm going hog wild, baby! we spend the entire afternoon there, it's so nice outside and i'm feeling perfectly fine and frankly, quite normal - minus the extra 40 some odd pound basketball i'm lugging around. even yann has a few beers - for the second time in the past 9 months and 8 days, he caves and renounces to the vow he made me to not drink at all during the pregnancy. honestly, i didn't care - i'm thinking, "clearly i'm never giving birth so get drunk for the both of us!" anyway, nightfall comes and we decide to move the booming partay to our place. it's late enough that i'm hungry again (not that i needed an excuse) and my drinking buddies have yet to have supper - classic move when we have visitors in from france: we decide to order pizza and poutine. the concept of calling and having food delivered straight to the door seems to amaze them every single time and well, you can't come to quebec and not try poutine. i mean, come on! so, by the time the doorbell rings, it's 11:30 PM. we chow down the food like our lives depend on it, chat some more and around 12:30 AM we send our tipsy friends home - with a promise to go hiking up mont royal the next day with our little tourist. partly to show him, partly to coax the baby out.
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little did we know - we'd never make it to mont royal the next day.
september 2, 2011 - 2:00 AM
it was like a scene straight out of a movie. clutching my belly with two hands, i shot up straight like a bullet. it felt like i was digesting just about the worst spicy food there is out there. i figured there was no way i was going to wake up yann for a weary bowel movement so i get up and haul my gigantic, wobbling self to the bathroom and sit there for a whole 30 minutes cursing my decision to eat that poutine and slice of pizza only a few hours earlier. i sat and sat... and pushed and pushed. and nothing. only increasing pain in my lower abdomen. after 30 minutes, i decided to stop and face reality: i wasn't about to take the biggest dump of my life... i was in labour. still half skeptic, i wake up a confused/hung over yann with a gentle, "the baby's coming." now, i don't know if he thought i meant that the baby was at the door, but he jumps up from a laying down position to fully standing and starts spining circles on himself and begins insisting that he needs to shower. sitting on the edge on the bed, going through my first contractions, i tell him that if i can't take a shower, he can't take a shower either - when i think back, what a horrible thing to say but at the time, i could care less if he was dirty and/or groggy. minutes later, i find him on his hands and knees scrubing the bath tub, getting it ready for what was to come... seconds later the shower nazi that i'd become changs her mind and succumbs to the one demand he'll make all through the day.
with the contractions getting stronger and stronger, i'm finding myself going back and forth from the edge of the bed to the bath tub without really knowing how to properly position myself. i keep thinking of the stages of labour that the midwife had explained to us and it just doesn't seem like i'm in full-on labour. she had mentionned to wait and that it wasn't necessary to call right away - a woman's first birth lasts on average anywhere between 16 to 24 hours with the first phase of latency potentially lasting up to 8 hours - contractions being short and quite distanced. my contractions seem long and are pretty close together - for some reason i didn't put two and two together right away or maybe i didn't want to face the obvious but i was already way passed that point: my labour was going quickly.
i guess i nonetheless felt in control of the situation because for those first hours i manage to get through the pain, knowing each contraction is bringing me that much closer to meeting my baby. at around 3:30 AM i met my poutine for second time in less than 24 hours. at this point, the contractions are quite strong and i find myself a little surprised by the pain. i have just enough time to motion to yann to give me the big plastic tupperware (we found it odd when we saw it on the list of things to have prepared for the home birth... until i needed it.) at 5:25 AM, yann asks me for what seems like the 300th time if i want him to call the midwife - i finally cave, mid-contraction, and say yes. i need her. i need her here. i need her now. i need her like i would need my mother. i no longer know what to do with myself and no longer feel like i can do this on my own. for the first time since 2:00 AM, i think to myself, "i'll never be able to do this" and something inside of me pushes that thought away as soon as it comes through. i know that i can't say it out loud or else i'm just proving everyone right. i know that i can't say it out loud or else i'm taping out before i've reached my goal - unbeknownst to me, i'd be saying it out loud a few hours later.
at 6:15 AM, i've resumed by "edge of the bed" position when the midwife arrives with her sweet, nurturing, calm self. i'm relieved to see her and her presence is like a breath of fresh air but i'm in the zone and just don't have time for politeness. she carefully sits down next to me and begins rubbing my back - a pleasurable, kind gesture but in that moment, the last thing i want is someone touching me. her soft touch feels unsettling. i bluntly get up and go back to my sweet, merciful tub. an hour and a half later, she finally musters up enough courage to ask if she can check me... i'm 7 cm dilated. full effaced. and i've already begun pushing. clearly, she knows, i don't really need her. her presence is enough for me. she calmly slips out on the sunny terrace and begins knitting...
to be continued.
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