More important than you

Okay, I’ll confess. I’m not actually psychic. I “knew” I was going to have a baby this weekend because my doctor told me I was going to have a baby this weekend. My blood pressure has gone slightly wonky, the baby is past her due date, and the doctor felt it was time to induce. Obviously, I want what’s best for my baby, plus I have a huge job interview on March 7 with an office that doesn’t know I’m pregnant, plus I hate being pregnant worse than the fires of hell, so I was only too happy to comply. They scheduled the induction for Friday, 2/29 at 7:00 a.m.*

I didn’t tell many people about the induction. I’ve already put up with more than I can handle from idiots who suddenly seem to think my body is their business just because I’m pregnant, and I really didn’t want to hear any “tsk-ing” or see any fingers wagged in my face. Also, I absolutely hate hearing my phone ring, I have a lot of people in my life who inexplicably think it’s okay to call me after 10:00 at night, and I simply didn’t want to get a bunch of well-intentioned phone calls the day before, or God forbid, the day of the induction.

But I secretly began to prepare.

First, I called my mom and had her fly to Wisconsin. She arrived Wednesday. She has an extremely limited number of days she can take off work, but she wanted to be here for the birth and to take care of me for as long as possible afterward (sadly, less than two weeks). Then, I cut half a week of classes to rest up for the big event, even though missing class in law school is like slow suicide and I knew I’d have to miss a ton after the baby was born. On Thursday night I went to a fancy salon and had my hair washed and dried because I’ve been too tired to style it for weeks now and I wanted to look decent in pictures. Finally, with a fantastic feeling of abandon, I started throwing away the horrifyingly ugly maternity underwear I’ve been forced to wear for so long.

At this point I feel like I should write something pithy about how pride goeth before a fall or how the mighty have fallen or something, but I’ll just be blunt and say everything absolutely went to the shitter.

First, people must have noticed that the enormously pregnant chick was missing from class and concluded that I had gone into labor. I still have approximately 95 unopened e-mails from this weekend, most of which have subject lines like, “OHMIGOD, IS IT HAPPENING?!?!?!” or “CONGRATULATIONS NEW MOM?!?!?” Worse, my cell phone was absolutely demented with people calling on both Thursday and Friday, and I couldn’t turn it off because I had to be in constant communication with my doctor, the hospital, and my family. Finally, I was too excited to sleep on Thursday night, despite having taken a Tylenol PM on my doctor’s orders. When my alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. on Friday morning, I had been asleep for a grand total of two hours.

Nevertheless, my mom and I were excited beyond measure on Friday morning. The hospital bag was packed, the cell phones were charged, the baby seat safely installed in the car. I wasn’t allowed to eat anything, but managed to not be too cranky about it. At 6:00 a.m., as per my doctor’s instructions, we called the hospital. Did we think it was weird that we had to call first? Not really. That is, not until the triage nurse said, “Oh no, you can’t come in for an induction right now. We’re way too busy. Call back at 9:00 and we might be able to fit you in.” What? At my incoherent stuttering, she explained, “We have way too many pregnant women right now with problems that are more important than yours.” I swear, she used the term “more important than yours.” Then, just to piss me off further, she added, “Oh, and don’t eat anything if you want to be induced today.”

I won’t bore you with the gory details of how Friday unfolded, but in short-form, I had to call the hospital every two hours. I wasn’t allowed to eat. Every time I called the hospital, I was told that there were women with “more important” problems than mine (not “worse” problems mind you, more important problems) and I should call back later. My doctor called me every hour, apologizing profusely and saying that the delivery room had unexpectedly been inundated with emergencies. My phone rang constantly with friends wanting to know how my labor and delivery had gone and when they could come see the baby. My dad kept leaving me voicemails wanting to know what was going on and why he couldn’t get through on the phone. My mom was in tears. I was wracked.

Finally, around 5:00 I called my doctor and told her I was going to have a serious emergency if I didn’t eat something. She checked with the triage nurse and confirmed that they would definitely not be able to induce me that night, then gave me permission to eat.

Lather, rinse, repeat...

We went through the exact same thing all day Saturday, and the exact same thing all day today. I think I’ve lost fifty pounds, I can’t see straight, I’ve had three hours of sleep in the last four days, and I have twelve hours of class tomorrow. My mom needs to leave in nine days, there is no way I’m making my job interview (which for reasons I won’t go into can’t be rescheduled), and my hair is filthy. And the worst part? The last doctor who examined me (read: the last random resident who shoved his hand up my hoo-haa without even introducing himself) said, “Don’t worry, it looks like you’ll give birth within two weeks. And if you don’t, then you’ll be so far overdue you’ll be first on the priority list for an induction.”

The final conclusion? I’m still pregnant, and I’m going to be pregnant for the rest of my life.

Oh yeah, and I have no underwear.

* Please spare me any discussion about leap year babies. I am seriously not in the mood.