If you recall, we had gone to the hospital on the evening of September 29, only to be sent back home because I was only 1cm dilated and showed no signs of progress. And while I had been getting regular contractions, they tapered off by about 4am on the morning on September 30, leading me to believe that I had, in fact, experienced false labor.

Disappointed, I closed my eyes once more, determined to get some sleep. That, it turns out, was a great idea because I would require as much rest as possible for the approaching day…

(image source)

At around 8am, I awoke to contractions once more…except this time, they were about three times more painful than the night before and I definitely could not talk or walk through them.

Side note: several of my friends have asked what contractions feel like. To me, it felt like the worst menstrual cramps combined with horrible diarrhea cramps…times ten. The pain was not confined to my abdomen, but rather radiated through my entire midsection (including my back and sides).

That being said, while the intensity of the pain was pretty bad, it still wasn’t as bad as the horrible round ligament pain I experienced that one night in my second trimester.

I woke up J and we started timing the contractions once more. One minute long, 3 minutes apart. J wanted to head to the hospital, but I was scared that we would be sent home again. I remembered that I should follow the 5-1-1 rule — 5 (or less) minutes apart, lasting at least a minute each for an hour — and tried to wait it out for a full hour.

However, after only about 15 minutes, I yelled at J to call the doctor.

“Hi, I think my wife is in labor…yes, one minute long, three minutes apart…”

Then he handed the phone over to me. “The doctor wants to talk to you,” he said.

I grew increasingly frustrated and shot him — the messenger — a dirty look. “Do I LOOK like I’m in any condition to talk?!!” I hissed at him. However, I grudgingly took the phone and spoke.

“Hello? Yes…I’m pretty sure…I AM…IN LABOR…WE WERE AT THE HOSPITAL…LAST NIGHT…ONLY 1CM DILATED THEN…OKAY WE’LL COME IN NOW!”

Meanwhile, J was running around the house gathering all of our things again. The night before, we had calmly collected our hospital bag and other paraphernalia between my contractions. This time, we haphazardly grabbed what we could remember and bolted out the door.

Actually, I take that back. We hurried out the door, but it took quite some time to get from our apartment, down the hallway, into the elevator, to the parking garage, and into the car, because I really couldn’t walk through the contractions. Every time I felt the waves of pain starting again, I had to lean against a wall for support and try my best not to curl up into a ball.

We finally made it to the car and started for the hospital. The time was now 8:45am — rush hour! Additionally, it was raining cats and dogs. (Remember how I said that whenever something big happens in my life, it always seems to be accompanied by bad weather? Well, this was no exception.) The 15-minute drive to the hospital took almost double the time…

To be continued…