Ok, so some birth stories start with a suggestion of a bikkie and a cuppa. For this one you're going to need a packed lunch and a sleeping bag. I really wrote it for me, and needed to write down the finer details a) so I'd remember all the little moments that made such a momentous 36 hours, and b) because I was pretty shaken up by the whole experience and needed a serious de-brief. Sorry it's mammoth but I can't be bothered re-writing the abridged version!

So here is is in all it's ranting, rambling, verbose glory:

As far as the pregnancy goes, I'd been feeling pretty normal... as normal as it can feel to have a small person in your belly anyway. I'd started to get lots of indigestion and sore ribs from the upward pressure, but after an amazingly healthy and easy pregnancy, I figured I was in for some discomfort at some stage! I'd been sick with a nasty cold for a few weeks but by now wasn't feeling that horrible. Just had a really chesty persistent cough that kept sending me into intense braxton hicks about 40 times a day. I was on maternity leave already and had planned to start packing my hospital bag, decorating the nursery, visiting friends... had my 'to do' list done (several pages worth)... but with my cold, had opted for a few days on the couch and just watched a whole lot of downloaded Grey's Anatomy.

Sleeping was getting a bit tricky - sore pelvis, sore ribs, 5 to 10 trips to the loo through the night... well, yes. Easy pregnancy, but I confess, by 35 weeks I'd started to whinge. I sat on the couch on the Saturday and had a word with my wriggling belly-occupant... I made a deal with her. "I'm not sure I can cope with this if you want to wait 'till 42 weeks. In fact, I might go crazy and decide on a home c-section. So how about 39 weeks 'eh? Then you'll be fully cooked, and your mother might have an ounce of sanity left. Deal?". I took from the little squirm that she concurred. Those squirms can be very difficult to interpret though, and with hindsight, I think perhaps she was trying to tell me something else...

26/4/09 - Sunday - 35 weeks, 2 days
I woke up at 6:30am, quite suddenly. I had the feeling that I was weeing in the bed, and while I did think "oh crap, has my pelvic floor completely gone?!" I think part of me knew straight away what had happened. I went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet and the trickle continued. I tried to stop it but had no control. Then looked at the trail I'd left on the bathroom floor... pink drips. "Nope, never peed pink before. My waters have broken. Crap crap crap."
I remember sitting there feeling torn between several emotions. Primarily fear and shock. This looming feeling that the next 24 hours or so were going to be... well, I didn't know. But I knew it would be life-changing. Fear of birth. Fear for my girl. Fear of the unknown... because for all my reading and preparation, I'd never thought I'd have this baby early. I knew we were on the 'safer side' of prem., but I really had no idea what this would mean for my labour and for the health of my baby. The pit of my stomach hurt with fear and uncertainty, and my heart and mind started racing... but behind all this there was also a thrill. "Soon. Sooner than I thought... I'm going to hold my girl!"

My waters continued to trickle so I grabbed my towell and shoved it between my legs and waddled back to the bedroom. So glad it was a Sunday or Andrew (DH) would have been half-way to work already.
"Andrew"
"Ugh"
"Andrew, wake up"
"Ugh"
"Wake up, my waters have broken"
Poor thing. Don't think he's ever looked so stunned. He sat bolt upright with a crazed mix of sleep, confusion and fear all over his face.
"Wha?"
"My waters broke"
"Wha?.... wha?... but..... it's too early!"
I have a tendency to cry with Andrew. When I'm freaking out by myself, I hold it together. But when he's there, it's like I can let my guard down. As soon as he said that, I burst into tears. "I know. It's too early. And I'm scared."... (mood shift)... "and we're going to have a baby!!!"

We cuddled up in bed for a while. Andrew held me and patted me and we talked about what this might mean for the baby and what we needed to do. I was trying so hard to relax but my mind was going at a million miles an hour through what had to be done (what needed to go in my hospital bag... that she didn't have anywhere to sleep... that someone would need to be enlisted to look after the dog and the chooks...) and worry about what was going to happen. Would I go into labour? Would they try and hold it off? Would they induce me? Would they send me home to wait it out?

We got up and I forced down some breakfast as I started writing lists of what needed to be done, packed etc.. Andrew sat on the couch and just clutched his coffee. He was pale and looked stunned. Didn't really speak. Just stared at me as I rushed around trying to get things together.

I posted on BB, asking what I might expect and then called the hospital. They said given we were only at 35 weeks I would need to come in. No surprises there... but I was scared. Felt like if I went to hospital I was committing to this happening. And perhaps happening through more intervention than the completely drug-free active labour I had prepared so much for. I was supposed to labour at home. I was supposed to have my natural birth... what happens now???

I threw some things into a bag, left a scrawled note about taking care of chooks should we not return under the neighbour's door and took the dog to the IL's. I stayed in the car, leaking onto a towel while Andrew ran in and explained to them. As I waited I called my sister and told her what was happening, warning her I might need some company at the hospital if I was going to have to hang around. She sounded as stunned and excited as I was.