“I think my water broke. Call me as soon as you get this. xoxo”

That was my text message to Brandon. He had left a mere 30 minutes earlier for work and now it’s 12:47am and we are off to the hospital!

Brandon laid down to sleep at 9pm after the Roughriders lost to Edmonton in a miserable game. Durant played like crap and there were too many turnovers for it to be enjoyable. We didn’t deserve to win.

Anyway, he laid down to sleep and I was feeling exhausted and slightly nauseated so decided to join him. But I couldn’t get comfortable and couldn’t fall asleep. Finally, I got up and laid on the couch because I was worried that my tossing and turning was cutting into the only hour of sleep he’d get before working 16-hours straight through till 3pm tomorrow.

Around 10:45pm, he left for work. I got up and moved the 4Runner out of the driveway for him and went back to bed.

I still wasn’t feeling very comfortable, but finally stretched out and sort of dozed off.

At 11:16pm I woke up with an emergency need to pee. Before I even got out of bed, I felt water dribbling out. A small amount ended up on the carpet before gushing onto the wooden hallway floor and then all over the bathroom floor. Sitting on the toilet, I still couldn’t convince myself that this means my water broke. Maybe I just lost my bladder? Maybe I really, really, really had to pee? When was the last time I peed??

So I go to the internet and look up ways to tell if your water has broken. The main (aka: most oft repeated) piece of advice is to put a super-absorbent pad in and wait 30 minutes. If more fluid comes, it’s probably amniotic. I soak through three pantyliners in about 5 minutes. WAY more fluid. Finally I decide to just sit on the toilet and let it gush out.

Okay, that’s a contraction. As I’m typing this at 12:11am.

But first. At 11:30pm, I called Brandon at work and he made arrangements for someone to come in for him. I returned to the trusty internet to find out what sort of things I’m supposed to pack in this baby bag that was probably supposed to be PRE-packed and already for the big day. I tossed a few pajamas and socks and slippers and camera and phone and wallet and the first 0-3mo baby sized clothes I could find in the top drawer. Add a blanket. Let the dogs out to pee. Wait for Brandon. Head back to the toilet.

By the time I am writing this it’s about 12:15am and I think I just felt my first contraction a couple lines above. Up there. Yah.

They say you’re supposed to head to the hospital when contractions are regular and 4 minutes apart or something like that. But if your water breaks, you have to deliver within 24 hours or risk infection that can seriously harm you or the baby.

So, our doctor is going to love the fact that we’re calling her in on a Saturday night. And I’m kinda nervous that the attending on call during the weekend is a scary (but extremely competent) doctor that I had during my OB rotation last year.

It’s 12:22am and Brandon still isn’t here. But that’s okay. I’m not feeling panicked and still no regular contractions. We have time. Reading the internet and typing this is soothing… I took the above photo at 11:11pm. Maddy seems to know something is up and looks excited to meet her new little brother.

Now it’s 12:42am and Brandon just called to say his work relief has arrived and he’s on his way. I’ve definitely had 4 or 5 contractions since that first one at 12:11am.

By the time we arrived at the outpatient labor & delivery ward, filled out paperwork, and I was hooked up to fetal and belly monitors, my contractions were regular and 2 minutes apart…

[to be continued]

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