The birth that was

So on the verge of a brand new birth story, I'll recap the previous one. I had a pretty good pregnancy with Ben up until the final couple of months. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, and the hospital had me going in for tests that ate up an entire day at the hospital every week, most of that time spent waiting around in uncomfortable chairs. The tests said that I had diabetes, the dieticians were changing my diet every week, the interns doing the ultrasounds were freaking me out telling me that the baby was way too small, the endocrinologist was confused because GD babies are supposed to be big, and the doctors were concerned that I was losing weight. I was kinda fed up with the lot of them. Oh, and of course the icing on the cake was that Ben refused to turn head down. My doctor (a bit of an arrogant prick) told me that the baby wasn't going to turn and went ahead and scheduled a c-section without even consulting me on the date. I was upset about having to have surgery and my doctor's lack of sympathy about the situation. I wanted the surprise rush to the hospital and the "normal" birth experience. Three weeks before Ben's due date, and two weeks before the scheduled c-section, I went to work, left at 5 saying "see you tomorrow" to all my colleagues, went home, had dinner, watched tv and went to bed. I had some minor gas pain, but nothing out of the ordinary. I woke up at 4am when one of the cats jumped up on the bed and I felt a tiny trickle of water, so I jumped up and went to the washroom. Now, I'd watched enough tv shows to know that when your water breaks it's supposed to be a big, dramatic gush. Of couse, I had low fluids, so I didn't get the big gush. I thought that I may have just lost my mucus plug or something. I woke up Steve and had him call the hospital and ask. He wasn't making much sense, so the nurse asked to speak with me, and she told me to come in just in case. We hadn't packed, so Steve hurried around and I got a few things together. He wanted to take a cab, but I figured that we were just going to be sent home, so I said that I'd drive. Before we left, I had another gas pain, but nothing major. On the way to the hospital, I had two more. After the last one, I started watching the clock and figured that they were about 15 minutes apart. When we were parking, I told Steve about them and he freaked a bit. We were told in the birthing classes that you were in labour when you couldn't talk through the contractions, apparently this is not true for everyone. We got to the birthing centre, the nurse informed us that I was definitely having the baby, they hooked me up to monitors and Steve and I waited for the intern to come and examine me. We read the paper and chatted. Steve called our folks and let them know. I got bored and walked around. When the intern came in to examine me it was 5:30 - I was 5cm dilated and fully effaced. The nurse came in right after and said, "you don't look 5cm dilated". I was taken into the operating room and they were wonderful and talked me through the epidural and joked with me. They raised the curtain between me and the surgery when they saw how tall Steve was. He sat on a stool next to my head and we talked about more stuff, and movies, and then the doctor (who was not my actual doctor) keeping us updated on the proceedings, told me that I would feel some pressure, and then we heard the sound of a very angry, red, beautiful little man being removed from his warm nesting place and straightened out (he was folded in two like a cellphone). I liked that doctor so much that she's my doctor this time around. She came to visit me in the ward after and said that she had called her brother that afternoon and informed him that she had just delivered her first baby who shared his name - pretty good considering how long she'd been at it. Despite the technical difficulties, I couldn't have asked for a better birth, virtually pain-free and still incorporating that element of surprise. Here's hoping the second time around is surgery-free, but just as smooth.