Here's how it all went down: Part I

It began with a Hot 'n Spicy McChicken from McDonald's. No lie.

Dill, Bubby and I made a trip to Wal-Mart last Tuesday night to get groceries (why I continue to go to Wal-Mart after this episode is beyond me. I must be desperate). Seeing as how we hadn't had dinner yet, I suggested we just pick something up at the in-store McDonald's. That's right, folks. McD's and Wally World all in one stop. Living the American Dream over here.

The Hot 'n Spicy has always been my favorite thing on the Mickey D's menu. A fire-hot chicken patty and lettuce, smothered in mayonnaise and slapped on a bun. For only a dollar. Can't beat it. However, I don't advise eating anything with the words "hot" or "spicy" in the name while pregnant. The result is inevitably a searing heartburn. But, in my moment of weakness, I caved and ate the dang thing. That's what Tums are for, dontchaknow.

Following our well-balanced meal, we walked around Wal-Mart for a good hour, trying to figure out what groceries to buy with an impending birth looming. The Smush was due any day, and I didn't really want spoiled milk and rotten fruit in my fridge should we wind up staying at the hospital for a prolonged period of time. So, we had some important decisions to make, trying to avoid the perishables, and it just made time drag so slowly. Also, you should know that a Wal-Mart shopping trip with your toddler and husband means you will spend twice as much time and money than you would have had you gone alone. And you'll probably lose some hair, too. Don't do it. AVOID. Wal-Mart is never the place for a family outing.

So, by the time we left, we had spent far too long at the Evil Empire. I had a ravaging heartburn and a sore crotch, and Bubby was whining unceasingly. Time to go home. American Idol!

Dill gave Bubby a bath and I sat on the yoga ball, watching each contestant try way too hard to impress Miley Cyrus. Except for Crystal; she doesn't really seem to care about impressing people. Overall, it wasn't a great night for the contestants. It was just meh. When it was over, I got up from the yoga ball and noticed a great deal of pressure in my pelvis that hadn't been there before. Eep. I blamed it on the Hot 'n Spicy and thought nothing more of it.

We went to bed around 9:30. Dill asked if I thought the baby would come any time soon. I said no. The thought of the new pelvic pressure popped into my mind, but I decided not to mention it. Dill hates when I'm in my third trimester because I think every little symptom means I'm in labor. He gets tired of the false alarms. So, I kept my trap shut and we went to sleep.

I woke up around 12:30, feeling like I really, REALLY had to go #2. Stupid sandwich, I thought. I went and -- I apologize for the TMI, but this is reality, folks -- it was ... runnier than normal. And it kind of made me start cramping up. I began thinking this could be it, so I got a little overnight bag together for Bubby and wrote my mom (the go-to labor babysitter) a note explaining Bubby's routine. By the time I was done, it was probably close to 1 a.m. I went back to bed, still having some cramps. I decided now would be a good time to alert Dill to the possibility of real labor. He seemed a little grumpy because I woke him (and he undoubtedly thought I was crying wolf). He said, "Well, get on the yoga ball. If the cramps stop, you're not in labor."

Yoga ball time!

I sat on that ball for a good twenty minutes, the cramps coming and going regularly at this point. Contractions. Oh boy, I was RIGHT this time! I started timing them. Five minutes apart. I distinctly remember looking at the clock when it was 1:44. I thought, The next one is due in a minute. And I'm not kidding; the clock changed to 1:45 and I felt an enormous amount of pressure down there. And then, POP! Followed by a gush of warm fluid. Ho. Lee. Crap.

I ran to the toilet to make sure it was really what I thought it was.

Yep.

"DILL!!!"

In ran a flustered sleepy-head with wild black hair.

"My water just broke!"

"Are you sure?"

I showed him my pants. "YES, I'm sure! Go call my mom ... please." (Yes, I did actually say 'please.' It's times like these when politeness counts.)

I got in the shower to rinse off and started shaking pretty violently. This is it. Am I ready? Not really! Is everything packed? Not really! Oh my gosh! AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

And then, I told myself to snap out of it. I had stuff to do and my mom was going to be there to any minute. Put my glasses in my purse. Brush my teeth. Grab my contacts, toothbrush, deodorant, make-up (stupid, huh?) and pack them. Put the camera in the bag. Leave a house key for my mom. Put any last minute dishes into the dishwasher.

Mom arrived around 2:20 a.m. She said she was so excited to get the call, she tripped over something in the hallway at her house. She was nervous for me. She kept saying we needed to go to the hospital. I didn't want to. I wasn't ready! I had things to explain to her! OW! CONTRACTION!

Ok, I guess I'm ready.

Her parting advice: Just get that dang epidural.

And off we went.