Last night I watched The Backup Plan. It was cuter than I thought it would be and it had several laugh out loud moments as Jennifer Lopez “suffered” through her pregnancy. In one scene she was unwittingly roped in to coach another woman through a natural home birth: there was much panting, wailing, gnashing of teeth, blood, sweat and tears (not necessarily in that order). I admit I rolled my eyes a little over the absurdity of the scene but not before I recounted my own (fairly) absurd childbirth experience 12 years ago at 3:20 tomorrow morning (May 17).
I pretty much slept through the entire birth of my first child, not by choice and certainly not because I have super hero powers residing in my loins that cause child birth to be a painless-then-pop-it-right-out experience. No, no, not at all. Let me tell you how it all went down.
May 16, 1999. I was about 38 weeks preggers with my daughter. I was working full time and barely had a nursery ready when at around 3 that afternoon – my day off – I got a phone call from my OBGYN’s office. My doctor was out of town on vacation (of course) so the on call doctor gave me a call as a follow up to some sort of test they’d performed earlier in the day. She wanted me to know that I’d have to come to the hospital as soon as possible (RIGHT NOW!) to be induced as my protein levels were out-of-control and too high for the health of the baby.
I freaked out (OMG what do I do first!?) but then became annoyed because 1) I had to work the next day and 2) I wasn’t ready for the baby yet (I still had two weeks!) and 3) I had not eaten all day except for a bowl of cereal in the morning and here it was almost 4 already. I have no idea why I’d put off lunch for so long. After all, ravenous and pregnant are synonymous, right?
I was SO not ready for this kid. But, like any other mom-to-be who suddenly goes into labor, I found myself realizing that the end was indeed in sight and I needed to get my butt in gear and get to the hospital. No time to do anything other than grab an overnight bag for me and the baby and a carseat and off I went to the hospital.
I debated on grabbing some food to go on my way in but I remembered that it’s recommended you don’t eat just before going into labor. Besides, I was scared to death I’d poo on the doctor during labor so I didn’t bother. Surely the kid would be out in a few hours anyway and I could grab a burger.
After getting checked in, I was wheeled in to a nice little room, and was told to wait for the doctor. By now I was really, really hungry. It was almost 6:30 and I begged for some dinner. The nurse said no which made me secretly hope if I got sick and puked, she’d have to clean it up.
Besides, I had friends who told tales of eating the biggest meal ever only to go into labor shortly after. My own mother recounted the burger and strawberry shortcake she had just hours before delivering me after a bumpy ride to the hospital. All those moms/babies seemed to make it just fine after a big feast right before labor. Why couldn’t I at least have some fricken crackers?.
At some point a headache set in, followed closely by the worst case of heartburn ever. It was so bad I swear I could spit fire. I pleaded for some relief and the nurse reluctantly brought me a small dixie cup of what tasted like lemon-lime syrup with battery acid mixed in. That $h*t burned going down! Hungry, heartburn-ridden and head-achey, I realized in my misery that I was definitely not looking forward to having a giant baby head squeezed out of my nether-regions.
Eventually we were told that the doctor didn’t want me to deliver the baby until the next morning anyway, (see how urgent my case was?). I was nervous and starving to death and felt like I really was not about to get to sleep any time soon. The doctor decided to authorize a horse-sized coma inducing hospital-strength sleeping pill. I took it with some water (which unfortunately did not help the fire that roared in my esophagus). It must have been around 12:30 or so. I was looking forward to a nice rest.
She also authorized another medication: a cervical insert thingie that would soften my cervix and would induce labor. I asked her if it was alright to take a sleeping pill and a cervical insert at the same time and she said not to worry. She explained it would take all night to kick in so that I’d have a slow, easy start to labor in the morning after a nice night’s sleep from the sleeping pill. I’d be rested and ready to go!!!
Tucked in, lights turned down, I turned on the TV. A League of Their Own was on. The last thing I remember was Tom Hanks saying “There’s no crying in baseball!” before I drifted off to sleep around 1:00 am…
Only to awake about 45 minutes later to find that holy ^%($ I am not feeling so good in my girl areas and what the hell I peed myself? Is that blood? Zzzzz.
Wait, what is happening? Holy hell I’m in FREAKING zzzzzzzzzzzzz
I’m in FREAKING labor y’all! ZZzzzzz
Have you ever tried to complete a task while dozing off? You know, nodding off at work while typing?
Yeah well it was pretty much like that: I was in full on narcoleptic labor.
I don’t remember much from that night except everyone being incredibly amazed that I went into labor and popped out my firstborn in a record 45 minutes start-to-finish. My then-husband kept drinking cup after cup of coffee to stay awake but was struggling as well (we found out the next day that the hospital was 7th day Adventist and didn’t serve caffeinated drinks).
I vaguely remember seeing that little round baby face with teeny tiny red lips and thinking “she looks like my grandfather” and hoping that maybe she was really a he if she was going to look like a boy.
And I remember the new nurse on duty turning up my oxygen and asking me to repeat my name and birth date while firmly patting my hand. Apparently she didn’t realize my narcoleptic behavior was caused by a sleeping pill but thought I was drifting in and out of consciousness from the strain of labor.
Not.
I may have mumbled out my daughters name before completely passing out. I don’t remember pushing or anything. I did get an epidural at some point – I think – but who knows. For all I know they hatched my daughter in the next room.
The next morning (way too damn early) they brought me my little bundle of joy, I was ecstatic to discover she did not look at all like a man, and I called my parents who lived so far away so they could hear their first grandchild cry.
So here we are, 12-years later. I am still sleep-deprived and narcoleptic with occasional headaches and frequent heartburn. I’ve since learned my lesson about not eating lunch.
It may not have been a tale worthy of A Baby Story, more like Birthing Fails instead. But for that little package of joy that I received that day, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Not even a nap.
And would you believe I’d love to have just one more? Sounds like someone needs to turn in their sleeping pills for some stronger meds.

