Going To The Hospital With A Burpy Dad.

I had this blog a year ago, but after I had Tom all I wrote was a short and simple entry announcing his birth.

I didn’t tell you anything about his birth or that first night how scared I was when I realized Kevin could sleep through anything.

Yes, anything.

Including baby cries.

And me having hours-long conversations in the room with a lactation consultant.

But I’ve let all that go. (Mostly.)  And since we are now 1.5 days away from Tom turning ONE YEAR OLD!!  I am still not going to write about any of those things, instead deciding to focus on what it was like going to the hospital to have our first child.

In a word: Scary.

The End!

Just kidding.

Like I could ever sum up anything in one word.

So I went to my weekly doctor’s appointment on that Thursday, February 4th to meet with the midwife I hoped would be there to deliver my babe.

The check-up went fine, except that she said my blood pressure was still a little higher than they’d hoped.  And then she said, “So I think we’re going to go ahead and get you admitted into the hospital today.”

Ummm…what was that?

Okay, I was due on the 6th, so I should’ve known this possibility existed.  I mean, I knew I’d eventually have to go do the hospital.  But still, when she said those words to me — I was totally shocked.

And then I burst into tears.

I have no idea why I did that!  I blame hormones.  (Obviously.)

So at 10 a.m., I sat in her office and called Kevin and calmly(?) told him that we had to go to the hospital today.

And this is what he said, “Oh, okay.  I’ll just wrap things up here and meet you at home in an hour or so.  Is that okay?”

Me: “Perfect.”

So I filled out some paperwork and hugged my midwife and drove home to actually pack a bag to go do the hospital.  (Yes, I hadn’t packed.  I was in major denial, people!)

I had been given instructions that the hospital would call me when they were ready for me, so once I got home, I started packing and called everyone I needed to call.

And I remember getting crazy nervous and upset about having to leave Huck for a few days.

Not about bringing a human into the world when I had no idea what I was doing.  Nope, no worries!

I was worried that Huck wouldn’t understand where we were.

So after probably shedding a few tears about that, the hospital called and said they were ready and could I be there by 3?  Yes, I said.

And then I realized it was 1 p.m.  And it takes 30 minutes to get to the hospital.

Where was my husband I wondered?

So I called him and he said he’d be there very soon.

Ooooh-kay.

I had packed my stuff, Kev’s stuff and Tom’s stuff.  And then I lugged all of it into the car.

By myself.

The 9-months-pregnant lady.

And then at 1:45 I called Kevin and calmly(?) asked where he was and could he PLEASE COME HOME AND TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL SO I COULD GIVE BIRTH TO HIS CHILD?!!!!!!

To which he said he was just finishing up.

Like…yeah.  I’ve heard that before.

You know?  4 hours ago?

So then I sat and waited.  And watched.  And waited. And watched.

And then he finally pulled up all leisurely like at around 2:15.

Don’t get home early on my account or anything!  I’m just waiting to give birth here!

He came in and changed clothes.  I think he ate a quick snack.  And then we were on the road.

And with as nervous as I was, with as many thoughts as I had rumbling around my head, with as excited and overwhelmed and completely scared I was…what was I thinking?

I wanted to kill Kevin.

How long does it take to wrap up work so you can take your wife to the hospital to have a baby?  He was due on the 6th!  It’s the 4th!  Didn’t you know this was coming?!

(Totally doesn’t matter that I was in denial as well.  Totally. Doesn’t.)

So we kind of sat in silence on the way there.  Each with our own (murderous) thoughts.

And then…

He burped.

And I said, “Ugh!  Gross!”

“What?  I burped,” he said.

“I know that!  And it was loud and gross,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Well…you should be,” I said.

I mean, geez!  I’m thinking about having a cute, wonderful baby and killing my husband and here he is burping up the joint.

Rudeness!

We finally go the hospital (on time) and I immediately got all scared and loved Kevin again.

And we got all checked in and he got some dinner and I ate my hospital food and he let me watch Project Runway and all was right with the world.

I had Tom the next day.

Kevin did burp the next day too, but I let it slide.

He’s so lucky to have me.

Leaving the hospital with Mr. Burp and Little Mr. Burp.

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This entry was posted in Kevin, Motherhood, Tom. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Going To The Hospital With A Burpy Dad.

  1. Karen says:

    Ha!!!! I loved this story!!! 🙂

  2. Robyn says:

    Very cute.

  3. Pingback: Little Miss Don’t-Know-It-All. |

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