The Story of Rhys--The Stupidity

So I dropped off my family at the condo and headed out by myself to try to find what I was looking for. I have since decided that every laboring mother needs an experienced consultant with veto power over stupid decisions during her early labor.

I knew my way to the mall and to the grocery store, but I didn’t know much more than that about the city I was in. I thought I remembered passing a thrift store at some point, so I first drove up and down most of the streets between where I was and the freeway—every place I had driven before. I had no luck, but it ended me right by the mall, so I went in to check what was there. By the time I finished scanning every department store in the mall, utterly failing to find anything that would suit my needs, I was walking very quickly and pausing about every 20 steps to lean over and breathe through a contraction. In this manner I made it to the information desk, where I employed the phone book there to locate the only thrift store in the city—no where near where I had been looking. I made my hurried and halting way back to the car and took off again. At the thrift store I pawed through the racks of sleepwear, certain there had to be something to meet my needs—knee length, short sleeved, knit material, with several inches of buttons down the front. I finally found one that fit the description, but I was extremely turned off by the fact that it was designed to look like a baseball jersey. Not being even remotely close to any sort of ball fan, I started to put it back when I noticed the name scrawled across the front and suddenly my whole opinion of the shirt changed. It just said “Home Team,” and I knew I had found the perfect shirt to welcome my home-birthed baby into the world. I kept looking and found 2 more that were OK and purchased them along with an impulse grab of the original Land Before Time movie, even though we already have a copy, I just like it so much better than even the idea of any of the ones that come after, I just wanted to be sure it found a good home. It made perfect sense in my befuddled labor brain.

Just across the street from the thrift store was a dollar store, whither I went to find a cheap watch to time the contractions. I also got several packages of cheap candy and a doll outfit that looked like it would just fit my daughter’s hand-me-down dolly that currently only had a shirt. By this time I wasn’t just standing still and breathing hard during the contractions, but was losing focus on what was going on around me. But I climbed back into the car and drove myself to the grocery store. I ran in and did what I usually do—convince myself that it is just going to be really quick and I only have a few items so I only need a hand basket, not a whole cart. This was double dunce of me because carrying anything during contractions is stupid, but I also forgot to note that the first thing I was putting in my basket was 3 quarts (6 lbs) of juice. It only got heavier from there. By the time I finished, the basket was overflowing and I had to stop and set it down every few steps to breath heavy, lean forward and concentrate through a contraction. At the check-out counter I let them load it all into a cart for me to take out to the car. I even let someone help me take it out and load it in. By this time the contractions were taking some concentration and were coming quicker than every 5 minutes. Then I did something I, in retro-spect, would never let anyone in my condition do and climbed back into the car to drive myself the 6 blocks home. I had 3 or 4 contractions just going that distance and it took all my concentration not to ease my foot off the gas, close my eyes and turn inward during them. I had to actively force myself to look at the road and pay attention to my surroundings. It was extremely uncomfortable and extremely unsafe. Never again.

I got back to the condo around 7 or 8 pm, a full 12 hours into labor, and my husband helped me unload the car. I was anxious to have everything ready to head out to the birth house when it was time, but he convinced me to relax and focus more on getting some sleep first, since I didn’t know how soon that would become impossible. I set my new watch and timed a few contractions, just to see. Although definitely more intense, they were still only about 25-35 seconds long. So I got undressed and laid down in bed and dozed off. I don’t know how often I woke up, or how soundly I slept, but I do know that around 3:30 or 4 am I got tired of pretending to sleep when I was really just worried about not having a bag packed. So I got up and gathered a few things, then sat down with the stop watch. It was then I found the contractions were about 45 seconds long, so I woke up my husband and called the midwife. We finished gathering everything else that I wanted, woke my parents, called the people whose house we would be going to, and headed out.