"If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans"

Cheesy I know. I received that quote in a sarcastic text from my friend Sarah while I was in labor with my second baby, who decided to make an appearance 7 weeks early.

I laughed, and it helped lighten the mood a bit, for there was no better quote to describe my situation.  My first son was born 11 days early; 4 days after Christmas, which was a stressful time for me. I ranted and raved for the next 2 years saying I wouldn't do that again. In fact, many times I said "As God is my witness, I will never have another baby at Christmas time." Ha ha! I went into labor Christmas night this time. 

Let me just say that I'm not a writer. At least I haven't been for the past  2 years. Since having my first son, Jet, I couldn't seem to pick up a journal without writing about anxious and sad feelings. PPD at it's finest (another post). So I quit writing anything down. But here I am, 10 weeks after giving birth, and it's the best I've felt emotionally in the past 2 years and finally feel sane. Yes there is a reason why I feel good,  but that will be another post when I lecture on western and eastern medicine, but for now I need to stay focused on the day my child emerged from the womb. I have told and retold his story 70,000x's but I have to document it because I need to be able to look back and see God's gracious hand and His timing and His plans. Here is Benjamin's story.

My due date was February 14. In the PM on December 23, I started feeling weird cramps. I kept telling Julius I felt like I had trapped gas. I proceeded to stay up until 5:30am in this uncomfortable state trying to find a position that would release it. Nothing worked. In the 2 weeks prior whenever anyone asked me how I felt, I always responded with "I feel like I did at the end of my pregnancy with Jet, dialated with lots of pressure and painful contractions." Nobody reacted to those comments so I brushed it off too.

Christmas Eve I continued to feel uncomfortable so by mid afternoon I bought Gas-X (big step for me since I avoid meds at all costs). Still felt crampy but tried to convince myself it was working, even though I could only walk at a slow pace and would have to stop and breathe through some strong contractions, the ones I was still labeling as Braxton Hicks. I am an idiot, for the thought of labor still had not entered my mind. Was able to fall asleep that night only to be awakened by those stupid "gas pains."

Alas, Christmas morn was here. Julius, Jet and I opened presents and proceeded to my parents. Jet was not acting his normal self. He went down for an early nap. When I went in to get him he was covered in puke. I then drove to my in-laws with Jet throwing up in the back seat and me doubled over the steering wheel with every painful "braxton hicks " Julius said, and I quote, "There is no way this baby is staying in until February."

I chuckled, thinking maybe the end of January, the next day never crossed my mind. Jet continued to vomit the rest of the day so my heart was with him and I ignored my discomfort as best as I could.

On to the good stuff. We are back home Christmas night, and Jet went down for night night. Although I am still very uncomfortable, it is still Christmas so I feel giving, and Julius and I decide it's time for a little rompy pompy. So we jump in the sack. Let's just say it wasn't the best roll in the hay we've ever had. Julius states that he thinks I'm dialated and he could feel the baby's head. All I know is I wanted to die in the process. I think my face showed the torture that I was enduring, labor still not on the mind.

We then watch Toy Story 3. I don't remember anything about it. (I guess our little encounter really set my labor in action.) I was starting to get nervous because now I couldn't talk through my "trapped gas" pains. I called the doc which was another big step for me. (I had to be dragged to the hospital when I was in labor the first time, because I thought I just had food poisoning and didn't want to be that girl who cried labor. It was good I went then, I was 7cm's and in full blown labor.) She told me to come in and that it was probably nothing since I was not even at 33 weeks.

My sister and her boyfriend came over to stay with Jet until my parents could get there. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." I said, "ta ta." I left the house in a sweatshirt, sweatpants and boots only. No bra, no socks.

It was now 11:30 pm and snowing heavily. The gas tank is on E and that little orange light is shining oh so brightly, but we make it there on fumes. Oh freak, my parents will be staying in my bed, and in the mangled sheets is the Astroglide. That would be a nasty surprise for a parent to find under them. Fortunately I get a hold of my sister and she finds the goods and hides it.

At the hospital the nurse checks me. She looks a bit worried and says she is getting the doctor. I asked her if I'm dialated. She acted nervous about telling us and said "it's all a matter of opinion." B freaking S. Just give me the facts. Basically the Dr. comes in and tells me I'm 100% effaced and 5 cm's and we need to stop labor now. So I guess I was in labor. They give me the steroid shot to help the baby's lungs develop quickly just in case, it requires 2 shots and 48 hours. They give me magnesium sulfate to stop labor and it had me blind, hot, and puking in no time. I then felt a million times more horrible for Jet who had been doing that all day, bless his almost 2 yr old heart.

A few hours go by and they check me again, hoping for no progression. I am now 8cm's. A new doctor is now on duty and in he walks. I almost burst out laughing. The doc who walks in is the same doc who delivered Jet two years earlier. We call him "the drunk doctor," for that is the only way to describe his demeanor. It was actually just what we needed, someone like him to keep things relaxed and comical in this scary situation.

After the birth of my first son with the crazy doctor.

If I must say, I was super calm through this whole thing. Julius was asking a bazillion questions as to why this was happening but I didn't have the energy to worry. I didn't have the energy to pray. (Shout out to those that did!) The Dr. says to stop the mag/sulfate because it's obviously not working and that I am gonna have this baby at any time. Wow ok. Babe has only gotten 6 hrs of steroid, I'm hoping that it did something. I was told earlier that my platelets were low and that I wouldn't be able to have an epidural. That was fine because it was my plan all along to go natural, and since nothing was going how I planned it, that was at least one thing that would have to be so. NICU team comes in and sets up.

Side Note: I am not a Diva. I shower seldom. Usually have roots. Wear the same outfit for days, and the list goes on. But, for this labor I had the whole thing planned out: I was going to spray tan, get a pedicure, have fresh highlights, diamonds earrings on, shaven legs and 2 pairs of new cute pajamas for my recovery. But on this labor day, I showed up with chipped toes, roots, unshaven, pale, no studs. Julius, bless his male heart, packed a quick bag for me as we left, which consisted of 3 pairs of sweatpants, wrinkle cream and 5 pairs of lacy underwear. No socks. No shirt.

Everyone leaves the room but Julius. I am experiencing intense contractions that had me pissed off at my unborn child. Next thing you know I am screaming "he's coming, he's coming" and put Julius' hands where they need to be to catch the baby. I am pushing and nobody is in there. Where the freak did everybody go? I am about to have a preemie and there are no nurses or doctors in here?! I reminded myself of a western movie where the woman in labor bites the leather. Why didn't they pass out leather for those that go au naturale?

Julius pulls the emergency cord out of the wall and gets the nurse on the phone. Everybody runs in. No time to break the bed apart for delivery. My eyes are closed and everything seems completely out of control and I'm laying on my side pushing the baby out. I remember hearing the Dr. making a joke telling me not to kick him in the nads.

In no time, I hear the angelic sound of Benjamin's cry. He comes out pink and healthy and strong! They hand him to me, I finally can open my eyes because the pain is gone. He is perfect! I immediately tell Julius he looks like an Italian gangsta, for I had no other words. I then say "Hey darlin," a word I never say, and then he was taken away from me and brought to the NICU.

What the heck just happened? I think I was still in shock at that point. They tell me he would probably have to stay in the hospital until he would be term. Ok that's fine, I think, I'm supposed to throw a 2 yr old birthday party in 3 days and a New Years party in 5 days. After standing up and walking around, reality hit me that those wouldn't be happening. It was time for me to slow down and start relaxing a bit more (another post when I tell about why I'm pretty sure I went into labor so early). Anyway, this story could go on and on but I'll wrap it up here.

Benjamin was hooked up to things just to monitor him. He never needed any help, he could do it on his own! He got to come home 13 days later, not even reaching the 35 week mark. Praise God from whom all blessing flow! And if you were with me now we would bust out in song, starting with this doxology and moving onto other hymns.

PS. As soon as I get home from the hospital, I go lay in bed to take a nap only to look at my night stand to find a book Julius gave me as a joke for our anniversary many moons ago: "Pleasure- a woman's guide to getting the sex you want, need, and deserve." It hasn't been read but has served its purpose as a coaster. Oh shoot, I then remember my mom staying in my bed that night. Perfect ending to a perfect story. One that I could have never planned myself and one that I wouldn't change a thing. Thank You. Good Bye. And Amen.