The Pernot Family: 2017

It is 4:15am, and Charles is laying in his pack n' play next to me, grunting and begging me to write his birth story down before I forget.

I will happily oblige.

On January 3, 2017, I had an appointment scheduled with my OB's office for early morning. It was a very rainy day and I was not eager to drag all the kids out...just for the doctor to send me home again with instructions to "Lay low, coast to the finish line, keep the stress at a minimum, sleep, drink lots of water and come back in two days so we can tell you your blood pressure is AWFUL AND WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"

ok. I may have added on that last piece.

Whatever.

I had been waiting to be induced for over a month at this point. We really thought that Charles would be coming early because my health has been in danger for such a long time. But, at every appointment, they would tell me to go home and rest and come back again in a couple days. Even Saint Matt of Belleholm was getting upset. "Why are we gathering data if we aren't utilizing it?!?"

I did NOT make that quote up.

Poor husband. He had been so patient, doing all his work and allllll my work for so long.

Back to January 3rd. I packed the sensational six in the van and met Matt at the office parking lot. He climbed in the driver's seat as I waddled into the waiting room. My appointment started off with a weighing in and then a BP check. (WHY OH WHY do they weigh me BEFORE checking my blood pressure?! That is good for an increase of approximately 4mmHg, right there!) My blood pressure at this visit was 192/89. Never had I seen these numbers before while gestating. I started crying. I cried through my urine test. I cried walking down the hallway. I cried while waiting for the doctor.

And then.

A midwife walked in.

And she had pity on my soul.

She promptly told me that my doctor was actually on a cruise and wouldn't be around for another week or so.

But.

"Let's see if we can get things stirred up a bit!" she said.

Right on.

She did an internal and saw that I was about 3cm and 50% effaced. She swept my membranes and told me the most amazing thing.

"Go home and walk around."

YES, M'AM!

So I ran out to the car and told Matt to go to work but wait for my call. The baby is coming today! I am going to run a marathon! I am going to do the stairs until I can't breathe! I am going to...go home and teach the six kids in the back of this Express van.

I drove home, having an occasional contraction and some spotting. I was getting very excited. About an hour after we got home, the contractions stopped. Stopped.

STOPPED!

I cried.

Then, the doctor's office called. I had run out of the office so fast that they weren't able to get that blood draw that they needed, so would I please come back in, like, right now?

"No, I will come in after the school day," I replied. I had to get at least one thing going and under my belt.

At 3:30, I packed all the kids back up and met Matt in the parking lot again. It was still raining. The children were being so, so brave. I told him to just swap cars with me, take the kids home and start making pancakes for dinner. I ran in, they drew my blood and I left. Just like that. I got home about 10 minutes after Matt. I texted our friend Sheryl in Cicero to let her know that it would be another baby-less night and not to worry about being on call. No contractions. No signs of labor. I was just miserable. I texted a couple other people to let them know that the doctor changed my due date to January of 2045.

My brother Matt sent this conversation to me after Charlie was born, to remind me how he knew I was getting close and that Charles got the message.

I stood at the counter watching Matt flip pancakes on the griddle. Gosh, I hated EVERYTHING. WHY WAS EVERYONE SO RIDICULOUS? WHY WAS THE WORLD SO UNFAIR?!

And then, a contraction.

"WHATEVER!" I yelled inside my head at my contraction.

Then three minutes, and another one came.

Then five minutes, and another.

Matt asked if I wanted to eat.

I watched him flip one more pancake and I had the worst contraction yet.

My body was done.

Soooooo, I did what any sane pregnant woman would do.

I lied.

I told him I had to use the bathroom and I needed some space. "Please, feed the children," I said, "I'll be right down."

Except, I went upstairs and had another contraction. And then another. So, I texted Matt from upstairs. Just the word "now" every time I contracted...because I didn't want to keep track.

Screenshot from Matt’s phone, as he kept close record of every time I texted “now”.

After about three more contractions, he texted me back from downstairs to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that this baby was coming and I needed to text Sheryl back and ask her to come NOW.

Sheryl got to the house just after 7p. We live out away from the city, so it takes a while to get anywhere. Twenty minutes, minimum, for everything. I took this into account when I was planning getting to the hospital in time.

I had a PLAN.

I was going to labor at home. Then, Matt would drive me to the hospital. I would sit on a birthing ball, pace the halls, deep breathe, sit in one of those Jacuzzi tubs, etc. Then, after a few hours of very controlled labor, I would push the baby out.

Welp, we got to the hospital around 7:30p. I made Matt drop me off at the front door so he could go park the car. The valet parking guy was confused. But, I let him know that I was having a baby and my husband was going to park the car! GOSH! WHY WAS EVERYONE SO IRRITATING? So, the valet guy backed away very, very slowly.

I should've known I was in transition at this point, since everything was making me so batty. But it didn't actually occur to me that I was close to delivery until I saw the Security Counter in the main lobby and completely bypassed it, waving to the guard angrily and yelling "IM HAVING A BABY!"

Her jaw hit the floor and she called back, "You want a wheelchair? Floor 5..."

"NO," I snapped, "I DON'T WANT A WHEELCHAIR! I'M HAVING A BABY!"

Good grief! Why was everyone being so dense!?

There was a tough-looking teenage boy standing next to the elevator as I tried to push the button. I glared at him.

"I'M HAVING A BABY!" I sneered, letting him know that I didn't like that he was staring at me and that I would totally take him down if he, too, offered me a wheelchair.

I had a contraction on my way up to the 5th floor and I remember thinking that I probably shouldn't have told Matt to go park the car because he was going to miss the delivery now.

I felt bad for approximately the length of the contraction. And then I got good and cross again.

I stepped off the elevator and the triage nurse met me in the hallway. She told me that they had received BOTH of my phone calls but the on-call doctor couldn't call me back because she was in surgery.

Fine, I thought. But I wasn't waiting for her to call me back.

"I'M HAVING A BABY!" I said.

She told me they needed to check me to make sure I was in real labor and this wasn't just Braxton-Hicks. She said to me that occasionally they have to send women home when they are in false labor.

"I'M HAVING A BABY!" I said.

Regardless, she sent me into triage and asked me to give them a urine sample.

I waddled into the bathroom, every single muscle aching, and wondered if I should tell someone that this was my seventh delivery. I tried to get the urine sample, but each time I attempted, I had a contraction that I had to breathe through and grab onto something. Three contractions (also, three minutes) later, I had the sample AND felt something verrrrrrrrrrry familiar: pressure. Insane pressure. And then my body did something that it was created to do.

It pushed. In the bathroom. Of triage. With no one around. And I hadn't even been admitted or had my IV placed for antibiotics or even put a gown on yet or or or or

OH BOY!

I "ran" out to the stretcher that they had temporarily labeled as my bed, behind a curtain that no one ever closed. I didn't care. I stripped down and threw on a gown and told the nurse that my body was pushing.

I was entering a phase now that was incredibly new. Panic. They weren't ready for me.

Matt ran in, breathless. He had to go through security, unfortunately. (hehehe)

I told him I had forgotten how to breathe through contractions and my body was pushing. They hadn't even checked my dilation yet!

The nurse called for backup and they simultaneously checked that I was 8cm ONLY and tried getting an IV in. They poked me four times before they gained access.

As I was laying on the stretcher, I remember hearing Matt, but I couldn't see him. My eyes were shut tight. I thought I could squint and tighten all the muscles of my body to keep this baby in.

I was wrong.

With the very next contraction, I yelled out: "I'm pushing! I can't stop! I forgot how to breathe! I forgot how to breathe! I forgot how to breathe!"

And the flurry that followed was actually quite comical (well, it is NOW).

They unlocked the stretcher, ran and pushed me down the hallway, laying in the bed calling out "I FORGOT HOW TO BREATHE! I FORGOT HOW TO BREATHE!" And the nurses were yelling back, "DON'T PUSH! DON'T PUSH!"

They wheeled me into a room that wasn't ready. The doctor, fresh out of surgery, came into apologize for not returning my calls. I told her I didn't care and that I was going to push. She checked and said I was still 8cm, to which I responded:

"I'M PUSHING!"

And I did.

Once.