That Time I Thought My Water Had Broken

Or when I wet myself in our kitchen.

There. I said it. Embarrassment over. Or just beginning? At either rate, when SuperBoy exclaimed “Oh, Mama, you had an accident!”–turns out the kid was on to something. You see, I thought I was a water-breaking pro. My water has broken with both the other children so I figured I’d know it when I felt it/saw it/dare I use another sense?

It was the perfect day to have a baby. Saturday morning, my sister went off to help close family friends move as did AA. I took the kids in the double stroller I gratefully inherited from a cousin for a vigorous walk. It’s been a while since I was that brave as to actually attempt exercise, but I’d have a great sleep Friday night. I had finished knitting a special blanket for BabyLoves with this beautiful hand-died yarn my brother & sis-in-law gave me last year. The stars had aligned. I was ready for an adventure, a warm beverage, and maybe a bakery item. Off we zoomed.

The kids were happy! It was sunny and bright! The cinnamon swirl I got from Bread & Chocolate was perfectly baked and the kiddos gnoshed their croissants merrily. We headed back down Summit Avenue, actually seeing AA’s red truck he had packed with our friends’ furniture roll down the road in front of us! Yes, I was feeling contractions and tightness, both of which I attributed to my being abysmally out of shape.

As we rounded the corner for home, both children announced their toilet needs. Great! No problem! We’re almost there. And in we went, lovely, happy, heading to the toilet when WHOOOSH. My water broke. Right in front of the sink. Right as both kids were hankering to get to their own fluid-designated areas. I asked for a dish towel from SuperBoy, and got two to soak it up. It was clear, no meconium, and yay! I could have this baby today!

I somehow got the kids on the toilet(s), into their rooms for happy quiet time, into dry pants, called my sister & husband, doulas, and decided I should take the time to shower.

You know me and showers. It had been a while (hey, the bath counts for hygiene!). AA brought home Brasa, we enjoyed a leisurely lunch, and as I’m group strep B+, I finally called the hospital because given my water breaking, I’d need at least one round (4 hours) of penicillin to ensure the bebe didn’t get the bacteria as well. As SweetPea’s labor had been 5 hours, we figured best to get a move on sooner rather than labor.

On our way to the hospital, we stopped at the adoration chapel and said a few prayers. Contractions seemed to start, the sun was shining, and this baby was coming today.

Or so we thought.

Fast forward to a handful of awesome midwives & nurses and our double doula team on text-stand-by, and multiple tests show: no fluid. No amniotic fluid. Seriously. You wet yourself. Sorry, veteran mom. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Oh, how to never again say you’re in labor on Facebook when you’re not! Oh, thankfully they could conclusively rule it out and not have to induce me just-in-case because of the GBS. Oh, how sweet my sister & my best friend had been playing with the kids for eight hours and now could be relieved of their duties.

The fact of the matter was, by the time we were getting released, I felt deflated. Defeated. Depressed. Here I’ve spent my pregnancy gearing up for being ZEN no matter what happens. NICU, C-section, induction, all the while hoping for our unmedicated water birth. But to have a false start? I’ve had that before {False Labor with SweetPea}.  That one wasn’t on my list of things to be mentally one with. Turns out God has a way of reminding us that we are not as calm as we think, or as indefatigable. I was de-fatigued. AA was fatigued. And we were hungry.

On our way home we gathered a weird assortment of food: Burger King for AA, Chinese takeout-cream-cheese-wantons for me, and a chicken caesar salad from Cafe Latte. And now we just sit and wait for Mr. Party Pants to arrive. And I promise no more false alerts on the inter web. 40 weeks and counting!