Friday, October 30, 2009

My last day at the office was uneventful. I packed up my desk early and drove out of the parking lot promptly at 2:00 telling you, “Ok, Daxton. I’m ready now. You can come whenever you’d like.” Apparently you have a good set of ears because on the way home I had two contractions. Over the last few months people have been asking me about contractions – the Braxton Hicks versions that you’re supposed to get before real labor begins – but I think I’d had only a few. Having never had them before, it was hard to tell. But on the way home, the contractions in the car were different. They felt like cramps in my stomach and they lasted a good minute or two.

When I got home I went for a three-mile walk on the path near our house. I strapped on my heart rate monitor so I could time the contractions. They clocked anywhere from six to fifteen minutes apart. Our birthing class had taught us that they’d become more regular and frequent as labor progressed, so I wasn’t sure yet if this was the real deal or not.

Your dad got home an hour later. He looked at me in the kitchen and I must’ve smiled funny or something because he immediately asked me what I was hiding. I wanted to wait to be sure it was the real thing before telling him we were about to have a baby, but I couldn’t stand it. “I think I’m in labor,” I blurted out. He gave me the biggest hug ever. “I’m not sure though,” I added quickly. He pulled away and looked at me. “You are,” he said. “I can tell. I know it. I knew it before you even said it.”

After sitting on the couch and timing the contractions for an hour or so, we went to Hanson’s for dinner. I wanted to take my mind off the labor and it seemed going out for a “Last Supper” would ease my anciness. Your dad ordered a burger. (What else?) I had the Turkey Sleeper, which is basically a Thanksgiving Dinner complete with turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and other niceties. Mid-way through our meal, when I was sure labor really was eminent, your father said to me, “I bet you’re the only woman in this restaurant who’s in labor.”

At home, we finished packing and then I laid in bed while your father rubbed my back, helped me do relaxation exercises and timed the contractions, which were definitely getting closer together and more intense. We left for the hospital shortly after 11:00 p.m.

It was a surreal drive down I-25. I kept my eyes closed mostly, but opened them periodically so I could remember the sensation of driving to the hospital about to have a baby. I wondered what the other cars and semis were doing on the interstate at midnight. I remember specifically a white 18-wheeler with green writing on its side. I hoped the driver was awake and wouldn’t hit us so I didn’t have to give birth to you in a wrecked car on the side of the road.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

So a two-day blizzard just left Denver. They closed the office early yesterday and everyone went home. Then I was the only one in my department who showed up for work today, Thursday. A couple of people asked me, only half joking, why I had driven to work in a snow storm just four days before my due date. They had a point. Why was I there? I guess because I trusted you. On both of those snowy mornings on the drive in to work, I said aloud to you as I sat in traffic on the interstate, “Today is not a good day, Daxton. Don’t even think about coming today.” You obeyed. This made me think I was going to give birth to the best baby ever born.