After dinner I have the kids each pack a bag for a stay at Beema’s house. Just in case we need to go there tonight. I call Milly, I call Michelle. After all, we all know that I can go from something to SOMETHING quite quickly, so I give them the heads up.
Kids tucked in bed, I take Aaron up on his offer to clean up dinner and the kitchen. Which he doesn’t do immediately. I’m feeling like he had better hurry up and do it, because I may need him soon, which should have been a clue, but I was still able to do things, so I was.
I start in on my labor project, which is to sew myself a baby sling. Note to self-If you are going to sew in labor, at least try and get all of the items assembled ahead of time. Mid contraction is not a good time to need to climb a step stool to figure out where the sling rings are stored. But I am going to get this thing sewn!
The contractions are harder, they press down against my chair as I work the machine, feeding bright fabric beneath the speeding needle. I stop and breath now when they hit. Aaron asks if I need help. I stubbornly refuse. I think of the women in the rice paddies, giving birth at the side of the field. If they can work through labor, so can I. It’s not that far along yet, I still haven’t lost my mucous plug.
Then the machine skips, the thread tangles, gnarls and mats on the underside of the seam I am reinforcing and the sling falls to the floor as wave after wave of pressure slams into me and I yell for Aaron to bring a vomit bowl as they pin me to the chair and knock the breath right out of me. Two like that, back to back, and I am done sewing.
I tell Aaron it’s time to pack up the car and I go lay down. And they are easy once more, barely there again. I wonder if I’m mistaken. Maybe we should just stay home and try to sleep. But the memory of that one big one, and the lingering nausea spur me to get there. I don’t want to do that again in the van.
It takes at least an hour to take care of all the details and get ready to leave. Aaron does it all while I lay and doze between contractions. I call Michelle. “Do you want me to come now?” she asks.
I’m still not sure. I promise to call her again when we get to Milly’s house. The kids are all awake and in the van. They are grinning. They may meet their new baby brother or sister tonight, or tomorrow. I lay the seat as far back as it will go and shiver beneath a blanket. The Girl strokes my hair from her car seat. I do end up vomiting again in the car, good thing we brought a bowl with a lid.