This is the story of how we became a family of four. I’ll spare you the raunchy details but my first born was 80% my fault. While I realize it takes two to tango I can say with added confidence that she is seriously my fault. I also blame BabyCenter.com for her because at the time, we were using the rhythm method to AVOID getting pregnant. FYI: If you’re trying to get pregnant or not, give yourself 14 days for ovulation. BabyCenter.com gives you only 10. Tricky bastards. I would so sue them if I didn’t actually like the out product.
So when I found out I was pregnant with baby number two, I completely gave my husband credit for 90% of that deed. At the time the deed had happened, I knew I could get pregnant and because I didn’t highlight that fact to my husband, I take 10% of the blame.
10 days later, I hadn’t missed my period yet but I was deliberating having hand surgery at the time and I wanted to check to make sure I was good to go. My daughter was 9 months old when I took that pregnancy test into the bathroom with me. My husband didn’t know I was thinking it was a possibility.
The results came up in seconds and I came out of the bathroom to hear Buggy crying about something. My husband was struggling to figure out what she was upset about and I said, “She’s probably upset she is going to be a big sister.” My husband gave me a run-that-by-me-once-more look and so I repeated myself.
The next day, the doctors confirmed it and there was no turning back. At 20 weeks I was very firm with the ultrasound technician that I did not want to know the sex of the baby even though my husband did. Going with the parent who has to carry the load for 9 months, the technician wisely didn’t say a word as she passed over that area. Looking back on it now, if I had put two and two together, I would have known that one of the images that popped up on the monitor was in fact proof that our baby was a boy. But we were never clued in and I was happy not knowing.
The pregnancy went along without much to worry about. Occasionally I got tension headaches but mostly I was just dealing with pre-labor cramps which always got my hopes up that it was time. I even got myself into Labor and Delivery but only to be turned away because it just wasn’t time. Darn it!
The day after my due date, my husband and I decided to stock up on wood for the fireplace. It was getting chilly in Germany and we wanted to get what we could from the stash our landlord told us to help ourselves to. So there I was, one day past my due date, chucking wood and piling it up at the back of our house. No baby came that night. I was disappointed. I thought for sure I would go into labor after all that…labor? The following day, I had an appointment with the OB/GYN , two days after my due date. She asked me how I was doing and I told her I was over it. I was DONE. She stripped my membranes and told me she would have me come in the following morning to be induced if that was what I wanted. “YES, PLEASE!” I said.
Eviction notice given.
My husband and I went to lunch following the appointment and I was super excited. I could feel the excitement coursing through my veins. I didn’t think anything about it.
We got home later that day and I sat on the couch monitoring my contractions using The Contraction Master. (Great tool and completely free.) My contractions were close but not anything different than what I had been dealing with up to this point. The only difference between these contractions and the false ones I had had previously was I was getting a pinching tingle with every contraction. My warning bells started going off in my head. I called the first person on our care plan that could watch Buggy when I went into labor. I was unable to finish the conversation with her over the phone due to the contractions coming on so my husband took over. We left the house and drove to the hospital in 25 minutes. (Normally a 40 minute drive.) Unbeknownst to me, my husband and our friend had agreed to meet us at the hospital. Genius. My husband dropped me off at the ER and I went up to L & D. The nurses asked me about my contractions and put me in a room to check me out. As I was stripping down into the hospital gown, my water not only broke but exploded down my leg. All I could do was stare at it. This was how the nurse found me. Pants around my ankles with amniotic fluid seeping out of my body. Confident now that this baby was coming, I settled into the hospital bed preparing myself for another textbook delivery. I was getting up from the bed to walk round the room when my husband came in. He said he was down in the parking lot and had had a feeling my water had broke, so he ran up to L & D to see how I was doing. 
After that, everything was a blur. The contractions came on swiftly and it took every bit of concentration to get myself back onto the bed. I remember writhing in pain on the bed. I remember getting an oxygen mask because I couldn’t catch my breath fast enough between contractions. I remember losing control of my bodily functions at one point and then telling the nurse that I felt the urge to push. I remember seeing my husband behind a crowd of nurses that were gathering around. He looked terrified for me. The doctor came running in and started to do some stretching since I wasn’t fully dialated. 3 pushes later…I think, and the baby was out. I didn’t hear anyone say what the sex was of our baby but all I had to do was look at my husband’s face and I knew.
We had our little boy.
Forty-four minutes after being admitted into the hospital, our son was born. He was a little blue 
upon entering the world due to the stress of the fast and furious labor but he recovered quickly and I was able to nurse him soon thereafter. Our perfect little family.
My husband called our friend and she said, “Already?” Yea, that was 44 minutes of the most intense moments in my life.
We brought him home on Halloween that year. And even though he wasn’t born on Halloween, we still call him our boo baby.
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3 large carrots, cut into slices
It’s not a good sign when I am hoping with all my heart that there is a second pink line. Is that sad? But I know the only symptoms I’m having of pregnancy is a wishful heart and an emotional soul. No swollen breasts or cravings for this girl.
I know, I know. Bad Mommy.
