Yup. It's the One About My Labor

3:30 a.m.- Crikey! I have to pee again. I'm glad I'm being induced today so I won't have to deal with this whole shuffling to the bathroom thing much longer. Huh. That's weird. I don't think I'm supposed to be bleeding. Or uh... Oh... having contractions?! Is this labor? Holy crap! I'm in labor!

I waddle back to our bedroom and tell H, "Hey, so I um.. think we should go to the hospital earlier than planned. I'm in labor or so it seems."

Then I do what any rightly thinking woman does and proceed to shower, put on make up, blow dry and straighten my hair and finish packing my bag. The contractions are mild so when else will I have this much time to devote to my looks in the near future, am I right?

Then I make H stop at Dunkin' Donuts and then I make us both wait in the car for a half hour as I sip my overly sweetened hot chocolate and re-think that whole everything bagel with cream cheese choice while I count my contractions in the hospital parking lot. Eight minutes apart. It's time to go in.

8 a.m.- I'm wearing the latest in hospital couture that universal blue and green checked gown. Why is that gown the go-to fashion choice for hospitals everywhere? I sneak a bite of a glazed donut and begin to Twitter and read Newsweek while I let the cervadil do it's job.

10 a.m.- Body hates cervadil and it's not doing it's job. I'm still the same status quo as I was a week before. This blows. So does morning television. Who knew that the Today Show let Kathie Lee Gifford have a whole freakin' hour to yammer away? I do now. She's more torture than the 4-5 minute apart contractions combined with my massive head cold.

12 p.m.- LAY OFF ME I'M STARVING! I want my lunch. H brings up some bland attempt at spinach and pasta and I instead try to eat some Cheetos. I've turned into Britney Spears saying in a thick overly done Southern drawl, "Ooops! I dropped a Cheeto on mah baaybeee." The pain is pretty tough now. Contractions are 3-4 minutes apart and the second dose of cervadil is kickin' my ass. I'm regretting the Cheetos and finding the bland pasta to be so odoriferous I want to scream at H for ever bringing it into the room. He will pay for this later I vow.

1-2 p.m.- HOLY HELL! Where is that damn epidural?! This is the longest hour of the day. I think the clock that keeps saying, "Saftey First" is mocking me. My midwife pops out from behind the curtain to tell me to remember just one thing, "Remember! YOU are a birthin' BEEOTCH! Focus above that pain. Focus!" I manage a chuckle and a thank you to God that she was on call today. Otherwise I might have killed everyone else with their quiet soothing. Contractions are two minutes apart and I practically draw blood on H's hand when the epidural is placed in and I'm having contractions.

3 p.m.- Everything is shaking. Everyone thinks I'm cold but it's just the epidural. There's blood and everyone thinks it's super fantastic whoopee! I'm numb and thinking, "Whatever." After the epidural life is pretty chill. Except for Dash Two taking residence up in my diaphragm. Oh and that freakin' catheter which I can still feel much to everyone surprise. Kick ass midwife takes things into hand and relieves all discomfort and cracks jokes about my pelvic region. I am in love with her. I might name this kid after her.

Somewhere around 4 p.m.- Fun times for all. My water has apparently broken and there is much blood. Whoo wee! Cheers go up from the midwives. I have no clue. Oprah is featuring talented children. Is it bad that I think none of them are all that talented? The TV is clicked off and I'm told to basically hold my legs closed because it's go time but they aren't set up yet. Alrighty!

4:46 p.m.- Ten minutes of pushing and two contractions later and Dash Two has arrived. It's done. There's an awkward moment of waiting and small talk between me and the midwives as we wait for this problematic placenta to present itself (can you say that three times fast?) and when it does it's quite a show. There is more than one it seems. It's all very intriguing and lab testable. I am half-tempted to take pictures after all the problems it caused. Seems we were always looking at just one of the two.

6 p.m. - Some juice and graham crackers later I find myself alone in the labor room. I call my Mom to chat and text some friends. It feels like 3 a.m. and all I want is a drink, some real food and to get a look at this gorgeous new baby of mine.

And there you have it. That's my labor story and I'm sticking to it. Can I just say, OH MY HEAVENS I'M DONE! I'M DONE! I'm like Macauley Culkin in Home Alone. You know that scene where he runs around the house yelling, "I'm Free! Whoo hooo! I'm free!!!!" Yeah, that's pretty much how I feel right about now.