The next step was to call my mother. She was at work, the poor lady, I layed in on her late in the afternoon. I have to give her credit though. Before I could tell her what was up she asked me if I was pregnant. One of those things she said. She was reasonably calm. She and my father treated me well and supported me emotionally and financially throughout my pregnancy.
My boyfriend called soon after I took the test. This was his one call a day. It was a collect call of course. I told him right away. He was so excited he shouted it out to all the guys that he was going to be a daddy. Too bad he never lived up to that potential. He spent the first 7 months of my pregnancy in jail. When he did come home things just weren't like they were supposed to be. He never wanted to touch my belly. He wasn't really into Lamaze classes although he did go to them, but I had to drag him. When I went into labor he wouldn't even wake up!
I woke up on June 2 1995 and had to go to the bathroom around 4:30 am. (you know how it is...). When I looked down the toilet paper (ewww) was bloody. This scared the crap out of me so I immediately called my doctor (who cares if it's 4:30 in the morning?). He told me it was my mucus plug and said to call him when my contractions started. I layed in bed scared out of my mind and wishing I had someone to comfort me. My boyfriend was sound asleep and snoring, that isn't exactly comforting. Around 5:45 I got my first contraction. It wasn't all that bad. It kinda felt like gas rumbling across my belly. I knew it was a contraction because the same thing happened exactly two minutes later. I counted four or five of them and then got really nervous. They said the contractions would be at least 15 minutes apart! I called my doctor again and he said to get my butt to the hospital pronto!
I tried to wake my boyfriend up but he wouldn't get up. I went to my mom (we lived at her house) and woke her and my dad up. They told me to calm down and they would get ready and take me there. Mom got in the shower and I paced the house. Finally my boyfriend decided to wake up and we all got in the car to go. Dad stayed home because he had to go to work.
We got to the hospital in the normal flurry. The nurses rushed me into a room, started an IV and took some blood. they checked me and found that I was only 2 cm dilated and about 50% effaced. The nurse told me she'd come back in a little bit to check on me. The next few hours flew by. The pain wasn't that bad, the contractions were still around 2 minutes apart. It started to feel like really bad gas. My way of dealing with the pain was to pace the halls of the hospital. I couldn't go far so I must have cut a big dip into the rug. After about four hours I was about 5 cm dilated and 85% effaced. The doctor asked if I wanted any pain medicine. I said "hell YA!". They gave me a drug called Nubain. This stuff took the edge off and I spent a good hour in la-la land.
Then the Doc decided to break my water. HA! The next contraction nearly had me on the floor. After relaxing and having minimal pain for an hour it felt like there was someone inside of me literally ripping me apart! Then he decided to check me! That was so painful. I was 9cm and one hundred percent effaced. The nurse, named Jo, who had been with me throughout this ordeal, turned to me and told me that I could push. I had never heard kinder words! Being able to push against the pain was a Godsend. It was also the hardest thing to do. I was exhausted from pacing for 6 and a half hours. (At one point they had tried to get me into the shower and I ended up streaking the geriatric ward across the hall when I had a contraction).
After a good hour and half of pushing the head finally came out. One major problem, his shoulders were too big. Jo pushed on my stomach while I pushed and the doctor pulled. Out came a squalling baby boy. I heard that he was healthy and I passed out.