Episode Three: The Last Day

The sun was bright and warm when we left the midwives office. I wanted to freeze that moment. Three hours was not enough time to stare into AC’s eyes, to hold hands, to walk up the leaf-crunchy trail on Wopsy Mountain, to sit and breathe in the enormity of what we had done, and what we were about to do. It was, however, time enough to freak out.

Like the geeks that we are, the first thing we did upon returning home was jump onto the internet. AC to write a blog post, me to write an email to a few close friends. Then I called my parents, then I called the doula, then I called our cat-sitter. We finished up our packing. Luckily 2 weeks earlier we had packed 3 bags (a pre-birth bag, a post-birth bag, and an AC bag) and left handy little notes on each one listing last minute add-ins. Moisturizer, razors, cell phone rechargers, journal, popsicles, camera, birth ball. It was like packing for a really long trip when you don’t know exactly when you’ll return and you don’t know exactly what you’ll need. Or when you think you might come back as a completely different person. Or animal. The post-birth bag contained brand-new-never-been-worn nursing bras, night gowns with buttons down the middle, and my oldest, rattiest underwear (to face the dreaded lochia). And of course the teeny tiny baby clothes for the rabbit inside me. Despite all the evidence of little thumper’s existence, I still could not fathom that there would be a baby in our lives

IN 3 HOURS!

Well of course not in 3 hours. When I spoke to Misty, our doula, she said not expect anything to happen that evening. But still, in my imagination, we had 3 hours left before the world would turn upside down and shake a baby out of me.

So what did our final hours as a twosome look like? Contacting folks, freaking out, packing last minute items, more freaking out, putting the house in order, packing up the truck, realizing we didn’t have enough time to take a walk in the woods, taking a “nap” (yes, we made time for that—had to try the nurse’s suggestion!) and taking some artsy pictures of my pregnant belly. (Not suitable for public display, sorry).

After saying goodbye to Camus, we closed up the house as though we would not return for another lifetime.

Then we went out for Mexican food.

And no, that didn’t work either. No contractions. On the drive down to Roaring Spring I remembered reading on the internet that driving on a bumpy road can sometimes jumpstart labor. But alas, the asphalt on Interstate 99 is just too smooth.

We were both calm now, in a jumpy sort of way, as we ticked off scenarios that we would no longer worry about: AC barreling down the highway while I crouched on the back seat and breathed through contractions, my water breaking in the car, getting pulled over by the cops for reckless driving… For months we had lived in anticipation of this moment. We were on our way to the hospital!

And yet the reality of it did not hit me until we stood in the parking lot of Nason Hospital (bye-bye scenario where AC has to drop me off and park the car while I struggle to walk in through searing pain). As the two of us walked up to the doors together, leaving behind the still crisp sun of the last day of September, I realized that I would not leave this place without a baby in my arms.