Posts Tagged ‘hospital

(For Ashelyn’s birth story, go here.)

Thursday morning, sometime after 9AM. Kevin is preparing to leave for an appointment when I tell him I’ve had a few contractions. I can’t say for sure that it’s labour, but given the circumstances of my first birth – an emergency unattended homebirth – we alert the midwife.

She suggests a warm bath, which slows the contractions but doesn’t stop them. I feel them the same way I did with my first: a low frontal burn, not particularly acute. We call my parents, who come to pick up Ashelyn for the day, and arrange to meet our midwife at the hospital.


It’s a little past noon when we arrive. Kerry checks me: 4cm dilated and, she says, “quite thinned out.” Contractions are roughly 5 minutes apart and 30 seconds long, but don’t bother me too much, so Kevin and I are instructed to go for a walk.

We wander around the hospital for an hour or so and return reporting some progress, but nothing remarkable. I’m still at 4cm. We get a curtained-off unit in the assessment area. It was quiet earlier, but now more labouring mothers are arriving, many of them making much more of a racket than I am. The wait for a room is long.

At 3:30PM, I feel a sudden pop, like a water balloon or a giant baby hiccup. Then a gush. “Oh,” I tell Kevin (who was dozing off on the assessment bed), “my water broke.”

Up until now, contractions had been well within the realm of manageable. My midwife kept asking if I felt any pressure, and I hadn’t. Neither had I felt like making odd noises. But the first contraction after my water breaking doubles me over, and there it is all at once: pressure and the urge to push. Plus the involuntary growly noises I remember making at Ashelyn’s birth.


They usher us to the nearest labour & delivery room, thankfully just around the corner. I don’t, however, make it onto the bed before the next contraction hits. I feel a burning “ring of fire” but higher up, in the area of the cervix. I feel baby’s head moving down … and out.

The body slides out with the third contraction, and then the nurses are heaping warm towels – heavenly! – over the two of us. “I feel better now,” I say unnecessarily.

“I’ll bet you do,” one nurse grins.


Jariel Jayden, born February 12 at 3:43PM. 7lbs 4oz at 38w4d, he’s almost a full pound heavier than his sister was – although both burst forth in the same kind of hurry.


The ambulance has come to our address three times in the past two months. First, minutes after Ashelyn’s “precipitous” birth. Then, last night, because Kevin suddenly began experiencing severe pain on the right side of his lower back.

I called 911 around 10PM, and again at 3AM. Three paramedics arrived the first time. It took them a while, maybe twenty minutes, and much of the pain had subsided by then. In the end, since they predicted long wait times at the hospital, we elected to sit tight and rest. I could always call again in case of relapse.

Turns out, I did. This time Kevin left for the hospital in the ambulance. I stayed home with Ashelyn, who wasn’t sleeping. So much for rest – at least Kevin got some. She was awake and happy (and squirmy and hungry) all evening until the second team of paramedics left with daddy, after which she was awake and fussy for another two hours. Either way, AWAKE. This was unusual; she’s normally quite a decent sleeper.

Kevin came back this morning around 8AM and we all dozed till a little past noon, with a brief interruption when my parents came by to drop off his prescription.

It was kidney stones!

Super not-fun, but I’m glad it isn’t a critical illness. I’m not sure Kevin agrees, though. Forever the financial guru, it wasn’t long before he commented, “It’s too bad kidney stones don’t qualify as a critical illness. It’d be nice to get the CI insurance payout.”