The Friday Before

The Friday before I became a mom was one for the memory book... that I never got around to actually writing. Until now, 365 days later!

If you haven't read this post leading up to here, please do so. This is part two.

Continuing...
I worked that whole week. I was off the medication to stop my contractions, and was contracting about 5 times an hour. Everyday we woke up wondering if today was the day. My phone rang off the hook. I was filled with emotions. I was nervous for labor and delivery and breastfeeding. I was so excited and overjoyed to meet my son. I tried to soak up every last minute of being pregnant. Truth be known, I loved my belly. More than that, I loved feeling, protecting, and carrying my baby inside of me.

But, by the end of the week I started to get a little impatient. Keep in mind, I was having strong contractions about every 10 minutes. Not exactly great for getting some sleep before the baby came. With each day, they became more and more painful. All I could think about was walking around with my cervix 5cm dilated. I was half way there!

That Friday night {and Saturday and again on Sunday} I decided that Mr. had to go with his dad to Baton Rouge for the LSU baseball games. There was no way this baby was going to come if we sat and waited for him. Besides, if anything happened, I knew that his dad would get him back across the Basin in no time! I even threatened to make him remove the car seat from the car. We were just "too ready".

Mr. tried to act like I was forcing him to go, but he was ecstatic. I don't know too many women that would send their husband an hour away with such a pending birth. I got major points for this:)

So after work I headed to my parents house. The plan for the night was to go downtown and listen to a few bands play. I was going to stand and walk until I couldn't take it anymore. Then we were going to go to my favorite restaurant for dessert to watch the end of the baseball game.

I got to my parents and told them that I would drive. This was hopefully the last night I was DD for awhile, right! My parents, the beer drinker's, were thrilled. So thrilled in fact, they decided to have a cocktail. A Firefly {sweet tea infused vodka} to be exact.

We got downtown and they were ready for another round. No problem. The band was jamming and making Jackson dance a little. We walked back and forth to the bar, repeatedly. We ran into countless friends who watched my stomach harden and contract in amazement. My contractions started to get more painful and I decided we needed to sit at the bar the next round.

As the contractions strengthened, I panicked that my water would break. In public. At a bar. But, I had a plan. If my water broke, I was going to take one of my parent's drinks and "spill it". That way people would just think a drink spilled and not my bodily fluids. Well, no sooner than I shared the plan with my folks {who were feeling pretty good at this point} my mom knocks over her drink. And by knock over, I mean drenches me a sticky, sweet tea vodka.

The bartender yells call 911. I am in such shock, I am really not sure if my water had broken or not. The only saving grace was the fact that ice cubes were all over the floor. I was barreled over, peeing on myself a little, laughing hysterically. We all were. To the point that I almost didn't stop the 911 call in time. So there I sat, covered in sticky vodka, still contracting steadily.

My mom and I went to the bathroom and she washed my feet while we laughed until we cried. At this point, my mom had decided that I could not have Jackson on this night. Why you ask? Well because she didn't want to be that drunk Grandmother in the hospital. I guess that happens a lot?!?

It was time for food. And my dessert. We headed to my favorite restaurant, which also happens to be a pretty hot spot on a Friday night. The place was packed. But, with my pregnant belly, it took less than a minute for some good ole southern boys to give up their bar stools. Man, I miss those days:)

We sat and placed our order at the bar. With every contraction my parents got more and more worried that tonight was the night. My step-dad {Pop} has the hicups at this point. He's writing down my contractions on a bar napkin. We soon realize that they are in a pattern of 3 min - 6 min - 3 min - and have been for the past hour.

When my dessert comes, I can't take more than a bite. I must walk. I must get outside. OMG. The contractions were painful. My parents were freaking. In a panic, Pop offers the bar valet $100 to drive us across town to the hospital. I mean, I was the DD after all! But, I wanted to walk and see if they stopped. My doctor said that they needed to be 5 minutes apart for 2 hours. We still had time. We walked a few blocks to my car, and by the time we got there the contractions stopped. Not slowed, stopped! I was totally shocked.

I drove my vodka infused parents home. Hiccuping and signing the whole way. It was a night to remember. You may have to know my family to appreciate this story, but I promise it was an awesome night. I love laughing until I cry, and we still cry laughing about this night!