The last time I wrote, I was complaining about still being pregnant and the false alarm we had after our abbreviated curry night.
I guess I spoke too soon.
My little guy was just biding his time. He waited for the first day of school to make his appearance.
On Tuesday, September 2, 2014, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy - presenting Theodore Naeem Trimarchi - 7 lbs 5 oz, 19 inches.
Sleeping soundly in a bassinet. This was the last time I saw this happen. He's now attached to my breast or sleeping next to me on a memory foam mattress. The bassinet next to our bed has become a storage basin for all the bed pillows Jeff despises.
Then there were three.
I'm going to document Theo's arrival, so there is no confusion years from now. I always make fun of Jeff because he wasn't there when I had to drive myself to the hospital to give birth to Mina. That theme continues.
This time, I get to make fun of him because once again, I had to catch a ride with someone other than my husband.
I was lucky - the Anglican Archbishop of Bermuda and his wife, Fiona Dill (my midwife/doula) drove me to King Edward Hospital to deliver my child.
It's a long story.
Get some popcorn.
Setting: September 2, 2014.
Kids are on their first day of school. Two days of minor contractions and Braxton Hicks over the weekend have left me feeling very blase about the whole thing. Convinced they baby is taking his sweet time getting here, I no longer worry about every little muscle spasm hitting my uterus.
Since I have three hours before pick up, I decide to get a head start on dinner and cleaning. I notice some mild contractions, but they are nothing to write home about. I ignore them and proceed to make chicken marsala with mushrooms. Because what else would you make while you are in the middle of labor? Except, I didn't really think I was in labor because I'm the idiot who has never had a natural labor before. Both my kids were induced so I have no clue what labor even means.
After that, I look with dismay at all the thyme that is scattered on my floor. I sweep and then for good measure, mop.
By 1:37 pm I decide it's finally time to take a shower. (I'm being really precise because I am looking at my text history with Jeff to verify these times! No claiming I am making this stuff up!) Still some minor contractions. I ignore and take a long, hot shower. I even have time to put on makeup and do my hair! It sounds more impressive than it is. No one notices hair and makeup when you are 40 weeks pregnant and waddling around with a watermelon attached to your stomach.
Me texting to Jeff: I think I'm going to take a shower. Contractions about 7 minutes apart.
Jeff: Ok. Will come home after doctor. (Jeff conveniently had a doctor's appointment of his own for a cough.)
By 3:02, I decide to jot off a quick email. As I sit down on the couch, I am struck with a huge contrzction that doubles me over. I text Jeff.
Me: I'm calling Fiona (my doula/midwife). Had a really bad one.
Jeff: Ok. Have her take you right away. I will wait till kids are settled. Caroline can come at 5:00
me: Can you call Susie to get the kids? I want you at the hospital!
Me: Or Christina. Or call Jennifer Pettit and put them in aftercare for today.
Jeff: I am in car line. Will have them soon.
(this is the part where I groaned in frustration. The first day back at school is notorious for complete cluster feck of a carline.)
me: You gotta get them out NOW. Fiona is here. I am in agony!
Jeff: just go!!!
The trouble is, Jeff did not realize Fiona had lent her car to her husband, the for mentioned Anglican Archbishop of Bermuda. Damn you Bermuda with your one car per household laws! He was next door at Price Rite doing some shopping. Fiona thought she would be driving to the hospital with us. She didn't realize Jeff would not be home.
So, she called her husband, who dropped everything in line and came driving over.
By this point, I was on the floor of my bathroom screaming in agony.
Jeff also pulled up and was bringing the kids into the house. Mina heard me screaming and proceeded to freak out and dash off to her room.
Because we didn't have anyone to watch the kids yet, Jeff stayed with them while my midwife and the Archbishop drove me to the hospital. Everyone else was also in car line picking up their kids!
I screamed and cried the whole way. The Archbishop was very calm as was Fiona. They have six kids, so they have heard it all before.
We arrived at the hospital at 3:40.
There were no delivery rooms ready, so the nurses asked me to lay on an examining room table. I cursed her out in pain and demanded an epidural.
"We need to examine you Mrs. Trimarchi!"
"No!! No way!! I am not doing this without an epidural!! I want my epidural!!!" I think I may have put my head down on the table and started crying.
My very lovely midwife, who is just a peach, replied in her quintessentially British tone, "Sorry dear, no time for an epidural."
Together, they heaved me on the table.
Once there, the nurse examined me and told me I was fully dilated. My water broke instantly, and I started sobbing.
"You can push now, Mrs Trimarchi. When you feel the wave of the contraction."
"I can't do this!! I don't know how to do this!! I can't remember anything!!"
Jeff showed up somehow and started doing some ridiculous thing with my leg. The nurse practically rolled her eyes at me and told me to focus.
"Mrs Trimarchi, you have two kids! You know what you are doing. Just push!!"
"You can do this Sadaf, you're so close now!"
In ten minutes, also known as the equivalent of three pushes, Theodore made his way into the world.
He was tinged blue. At which point I started screaming again that he was blue, because I forgot that most babies are slightly blue at birth till they get oxygenated.
And then I held him, and my sobs were ones of relief.
Ten minutes. No drugs. It was finally over.
Welcome to the world, Theo!
And a special thanks to Fiona Dill, of Great Beginnings, and her very capable husband/driver, for getting me to the hospital in time. I hadn't imagined ever using a midwife before, especially since this was my third child. On the recommendation of a friend, I decided to give her a try because I was a wee bit nervous about delivering in Bermuda. Ok, I was actually very nervous. I missed the comforts of home and wanted to work with someone who was familiar with the hospital and staff here.
I am so glad I did. I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn't relied on Fiona. I suspect Theo would have been delivered on the floor of my dining room, which was the last place I was huddled over before she arrived at my house.