It’s been a while since I wrote and part of that is because we bought a home and mostly because we had a baby. I was actually working on a post about our home buying process which hasn’t gotten finished yet when all the excitement happened.
We really wanted a home before our son was born. So, when we finally decided on this house we had a thirteen day closing. Yes, that is possible and no, I wouldn’t recommend it. We barely made closing with getting our financing together. Sometimes, we end up doing things the stressful way, as you’ll find out. If you’re wondering why we didn’t get a house sooner, you’ll just have to wait for that story.
We got possession of our house at 1pm on a Friday afternoon and immediately had a painter come in to repaint our living room and kitchen which were a dark colour almost like milk chocolate. The dark paint really sucked all the light out of the room, so we ended up getting it painted “Pure White” just to make sure it was bright enough. Initially, I had thought that we could do the painting and the cleaning of our apartment (that we were moving out of) ourselves, but my husband pointed out that I was 38 weeks pregnant and really couldn’t do that much and probably shouldn’t. In the end, I was very thankful for his insight. On Saturday, my husband went back to the house to do some cleaning- the essentials, the kitchen and the bathrooms. I stayed at the apartment and packed up. We got the moving truck that night and had it parked for the next day when we had friends helping us move.
That night, neither of us could sleep. I really wanted sleep seeing as we were moving the next day and as I was pregnant I was more tired than usual, but I kept having these pains. Since I had never had contractions before, I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like, but eventually I noticed that the pain was recurring at regular intervals. I didn’t want to tell my husband since I figured he’d get all excited and not be able to sleep either. I figured it would be a long labour (if it was labour) so why get him worked up. I kept going to the bathroom, hoping that would help, my husband inquired, “What can I do to help you sleep?”
I gave in and told him, “Tell me I’m not in labour.”
“You’re probably not in labour, but if you are then….” What followed was a plan, or several plans that he kept reworking. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening… being in labour and all. First, he ran out to a drug store and got me Tylenol and Gravol so I could try and get some rest. Then, he told me he was going to move a bed to the new house. Fortunately, we had the moving truck so he could move the bed. I took the Tylenol and Gravol and managed to sleep between contractions. He came back, I’m not sure how much later. He was texting friends who were going to help us move to let them know that we might not in fact be moving as Jane was possibly in labour. He got back into bed after filling me in on what he did, then, he decided to start timing contractions. We had been given a 4-1-1 rule by the midwives, but my contractions didn’t follow the four minutes apart, lasting for a minute, and it’s been like that for an hour rule. Finally, the morning came and I threw up. Allan decided to call the midwives. I still didn’t want to bother them, but as it was morning we figured we were at least not getting them out of bed.
“We’re moving today and we aren’t sure if we can because Jane might be in labour.”
The midwife responded, “Of course you are.” To the fact that we were moving.
Allan filled her in on the contractions, etc., etc.
The midwife arrived half an hour later. We thought I would be maybe 0.5-1cm dilated, if I even was in labour and she informed me, “You’re 9cm.” She paused and to observe me, “You don’t look like a woman who is 9cm dilated. You could have six children!”
At this point lots of things happened while I calmly laboured. We had to decide where we wanted to have the baby and if we even had time to move to a new location. Allan had previously contacted the parish priest to ask if someone could bring us Communion since it was a Sunday. Our apartment was all in boxes, no food in the fridge and not exactly the ideal place to have a baby. So, here we are waiting for the priest to come with Communion while the midwife is telling us that we need to move now if we’re going to move. We decide to go try to move to the new house to have the baby. Allan starts running down and up three flights of stairs to our car and back with random boxes of things we might need to have a baby. While waiting for the priest, the midwife decides we will have to have the baby in the apartment. Allan rewinds his marathon and starts removing things from the car and bringing them upstairs. The priest arrives and Allan says that he’s never seen someone take so long to parallel park. Impatiently, he finally tells the priest to just take one of the apartment parking stalls. He comes up and gives us Communion while I am having a heavy contraction and breathing through it. His hand shakes as he gives me Communion. I’ve never seen a priest so nervous and I imagine he’s never seen a woman in labour… let alone hard labour. At this point, I decide that I’m not ready to push and we can make the move to the new house. Allan repacks things into the car while the midwife slowly escorts me down the three flights of stairs to the car.
“I’ll follow you, stop and pull over if you start pushing,” she informs us.
I decide to wear one of those sleep eye masks so that the sun and light doesn’t interfere with my oxytocin production. I had previously learned that light can interfere with oxytocin production causing labour to regress which I certainly did not want. So, I can’t see where we are and I keep asking Allan for updates. He’s talking about… stuff, again I’m not sure what and I keep telling him, “Just keep driving.”
Half an hour later we arrive at the house. Allan tries to be helpful with all the things that we learned in our birthing class and I keep thinking, “I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t want to follow his instructions.”
He tells me, “Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.”
At a certain point, I snap, “I can’t breathe through my nose.” I’ll breathe in through my mouth if I please, what difference does it make anyways! Besides, I really didn’t feel like I could inhale enough air quickly enough through my nose.
After less than an hour of pushing our baby is born. I’m completely dazed as I thought I’d still have at least a couple more weeks to prepare. The midwife allows us a few brief moments of exhilaration at meeting the new member of our family before turning to Allan and saying, “You know, you can still move today.” Off he goes, texting everyone and arranging to meet only an hour later than originally planned. The midwife stays with me while Allan goes off to move.
It was a good thing that we did move that day with the help and moving truck arranged, however, I would not recommend it. I think I’ve just recently caught my breath from that life altering day.
As I told one friend this story, he laughed and said, “You and Allan have the best stories, like your engagement story.”