Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Oh Ick!!

Warning.....this is going to get a little gross.  Feel free to skip this post if you're a little squeamish.  I won't be offended.

My due date was May 14th.  Two weeks to go and I was feeling huge.  Everyone that saw me said that I looked like I had dropped.  I was generally miserable, and absolutely ready to not be pregnant anymore.  At around 8:30 pm on Tuesday, April 20th I wanted ice cream.  I asked my husband if he wanted ice cream as well, and got in my car and went to the store. 

It's only about a 5 minute drive from my house to Stewart's (for those of you not from upstate NY or Vermont...Stewart's is a local staple.  It's a convenience store mostly.  But the company has it's own brand of everything....milk, soda, chips, coffee, and most importantly ice cream.  I'm pretty sure they started as an ice cream company.)  and about half way there my phone beeped that I had a text message.  As I had been really trying to be good about not looking at my phone while driving, I left it alone until I pulled into the parking lot. 

The message had been from my friend that had just had her baby a week before.  She had sent me some pictures of herself standing in front of a mirror, showing off how flat her stupid, skinny stomach was only a week after having a baby (you can call her a bitch.  I do.)

So I was flipping through the pictures she sent, and responding to her, when I felt more than heard this weird pop.  It has come from my lower half.  I thought "What the hell was that?"  But I think that I knew what it was.

I put the phone down and opened my car door.  I cautiously stepped out of the car.....and felt the liquid roll down the inside of my leg.

I live in a I guess.  There isn't really a town center or a town government or anything.  But everyone knows everyone else.  My daughter (not myself) is related to half of the people that live there.  (Which is a good thing because that means she can't date anyone there without a reasonable possibility that it would be considered incest.)  Stewart's is also the only thing in this little town, so there is an excellent chance that at least 10 people that I knew pretty well and another 10 that knew who I was would have been there.  Considering my typical luck....maybe more like 20.

I hopped back in the car...heart beating out of my throat and drove home.  I called my friend who had sent me the pictures on the way.

Me:  "I have never been so thankful to have to scroll through a bunch of pictures in my life.  You just saved my ass."

Her:  "Why?  What Happened?"

Me:  "Dude, my water just broke."

Her:  "YAY!!!"

Me:  "Yeah, and if you hadn't sent me that text when you did, and if there hadn't been a bunch of pictures attached, and if I hadn't waited until I parked to look at them.....well it would have happened in the store instead of in my car.  In MY Stewart's.  In a small town.  I would've been that girl whose water broke in Stewart's for the rest of my life."

Her:  "Holy shit.  You're welcome."

So I get home and waddle my soaking wet ass upstairs.  I tell my husband that he can't have any ice cream, as I strip off my gooey jeans, because my water broke.  I jump in the shower to try to reduce the amount of amniotic fluid that hits the floor. 

That was a useless effort.  How do women manage this?  I had my mom go to the store to get maxi pads.  Big ones.  I must have changed that thing 8 times before we left for the hospital. 

Every time I had a contraction, more goo gushed out.  It was fucking everywhere.  I was standing on the porch talking to my roommate, waiting for the contractions to get close enough together to merit a trip to the hospital.  I coughed......oh my god.  A spurt of fluid splatted on the stone of the front porch....through the maxi pad.  My roommate was totally grossed out.  "Awww, dude, really?  Like really?  On the porch?"  My husband was equally skeeved out by all the mess I was making.

I cleaned up the tiny mess I had made on the seat of my car.  It was really only a spot about 2 inches across.  He refused to take my car to the hospital.  He didn't want to sit in my "filth".  At which point I told him to shut his mouth or I would lose the maxi pad and leak all over the seat of his car.  It amazing how well a man can listen when you threaten him and his possession with bodily fluids.

The rest of this story will have to wait for another time. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Creative Commons License
Shouldn't You Be Working by Bethany Davenport is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.