Three days past my due date, I decided to spend the night at my parents' house while Mr. Brown Eyes went back to work. Brown Eyed Boy and Baby Blue Eyes thought this was a great idea. Spending the night at grandma and grandpa's house = movies, Klondike bars, and sleeping in the guest room in a king-sized bed.
I went to bed with the kids that night around eight o'clock. Then, just before midnight, I woke up feeling contractions. They didn't seem very strong so I was almost inclined to dismiss them as more Braxton Hicks. But a little voice told me to get out of bed, so, with a sigh, I disentangled myself from my snuggly two year-old and heaved my very-pregnant self out of bed.
As a bit of a side note, I have really fast labors that don't follow the typical labor pattern of contractions slowly growing stronger and closer together. So one of my worst fears is not realizing I'm in labor and giving birth by myself on the cold bathroom floor. As my due date approached, I started praying to Heavenly Father that when I was in labor He would help me know for sure.
Although this may be TMI, the answer to my prayer came as I sleepily shuffled to the bathroom and saw that I was bleeding.
Ok, so I was in labor. Suddenly awake, I hurried out of the bathroom. My fingers shook as I dialed the midwife's number. She didn't answer, so I called Mr. Brown Eyes next. Thankfully, he answered right away and said he was leaving the station as we spoke.
Bless my mother's heart, who came downstairs and talked to me while I paced back and forth, waiting for my husband to arrive, keeping my mind off the worry that maybe I had waited too long and we wouldn't make it to the hospital. I dashed outside as soon as I saw headlights flash through the window. Mr. Brown Eyes, in his work uniform, met me halfway down the sidewalk and helped me into the car.
After a peaceful drive with steady but bearable contractions, we arrived at the hospital. Mr. Brown Eyes got me a wheelchair and wheeled me inside, then went back out to park the car. The nurse came around the desk and exclaimed, "Did that firefighter bring you in and then just leave you?"
I laughed. "Oh no, he's my husband."
We went up to triage where the nurse took her time registering me, her eyes glued to her computer screen, asking such all-important questions as whether or not we lived in a house. I don't think she really believed I was in labor, until a sudden, intense contraction had me leaning against Mr. Brown Eyes for support, and I exclaimed, "I need to push!"
That finally tore her away from her computer. "What?"
"She has really fast labors," Mr. Brown Eyes explained, a tiny detail we had failed to mention.
They rushed me to the delivery room then, though they still wouldn't let me push until the on-call doctor had everything ready (I could insert a rant here about doctors, but I'll refrain). One big push was all it took to bring sweet Baby Kora into the world.
It was 1:56 in the morning.
Good thing I listened to that little voice telling me to get out of bed.
Welcome to the family, Baby Kora.
We love you,
The Brown-Eyed Girl
