H20

Eleven weeks.  Seventy-seven days.  One thousand eight hundred and forty-eight hours.  One hundred and ten thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes.

Okay – you get the point.

That’s how long I was on bed rest while pregnant with H and M.  At the time, many folks were like “enjoy this time because once you have twins, you’ll not have peace and quiet for years.”  Yah, yah, yah – that was true, but really what I wanted to do was be able to sit up. Doing everything while laying down got really old - really quickly. 

Anyway, after about nine weeks, my doctor said that I could start to move around a bit. At that point, she wouldn’t have been so concerned if H and M were born. I clearly wasn’t being given permission to run laps around the house, but I could go out and about and I assure you that doing silly little things like getting the mail and going to a restaurant was never so much fun. (Of course, the first meal "out" I had was at Pipinelle’s. Man, how I miss that place!)

On November 10^th,  two weeks in to my newfound freedom, some best buds were in town and we were all at H’s parents’ house.  I can’t at all recall whey they were all “home” but it was lovely to hang.  At the end of the night, D offered to drive me home.  (Yes, in case you’re curious, my arms weren’t long enough to reach the steering wheel because my stomach was so huge. Remember my beach ball blog?)

On the way home, I was explaining to her that I was worried that I’d not know that I was in labor. She, who had given birth less than a year earlier, was now a pro and she assured me that, likely, my water would break and that it would be painfully obvious.  (Pardon the pun.)  She knows me better than most and we both agreed that if anyone would be unclear as to whether or not she was in labor, it would be me.   We LITERALLY were talking about it as she pulled in to our driveway.  I hugged her (sad because she was heading back down to North Carolina again) and proceeded to put my foot on the driveway. 

Yep.  You guessed it.  My water broke. Right in her dad’s car.  (To the best of my knowledge, it was his brand new car but, over the course of these ten plus years, I may have made up that fact to make the story better, I’m not sure.  I’ll have to find out.)

Anyway, I honestly don’t think the two of us have ever laughed so hard in our entire lives.  I was laughing so hard I felt like I was peeing my pants…wait a minute…

We both went in to the house.  I went upstairs to get my bag (I’d had eleven weeks to pack it and it was clearly ready to go!)  D went down to the basement where G and one of our best friends, M, were playing darts. She was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out to tell them that their game of darts was abruptly coming to an end.  I think that G and M were so nervous, thinking that I was going to give birth right in the livingroom.  Meanwhile, D and I hadn’t seen anything quite so funny.  I have laughed pretty damn hard with this girl for decades.  This was just one of many funny, funny stories to add to our book, for sure. 

G and I hopped in the car and headed in to Boston.  I'm not quite sure if D and M left our house before us or if they were still at our house when we left.  (Maybe they finished the guys' game of darts...) We called my parents who were (of course) making homemade macaroni with dear, dear friends and assured them that there was no need to rush in.  We hung up and G and I laughed at the mere suggestion that my parents would actually wait more than ninety seconds before hitting the road.

I don't remember what G and I talked about on the ride.  I do remember that although I was already very much uncomfortable and in pain, I have honestly, never been so content in my life.  I have thought about that night a lot since then and I would love to feel that way again.  (Um...just not while pregnant so I guess I'm one and done with that feeling of contentment). 

Without question, if I had to relive that night again, from start to finish - I wouldn’t change a thing.  It was one of the best nights ever. 

And Mr. D – sorry about your car…I bet you'd change at least one thing about that night if you could...