details, as promised

I had a routine OB appointment on February 5th, which due to sudden and unexpected high blood pressure led to a non-stress test, which led to monitored triage in Labor and Delivery, which led to being admitted and induced within a matter of hours. Not exactly how I thought that day would go. I had so many tasks and errands I was going to accomplish right after my appointment, and Phil and I were planning a last hurrah for the weekend, but we had to let those plans go. It all happened so fast it was hard to wrap my brain around it. I was on pitocin for several hours but that night around 9:00pm they decided to turn it off so I could sleep, and start it again in the morning. Except about 15 minutes later my water broke, and then I was in labor for reals. For 22 hours.

I had to be on the monitors the whole time and have an IV in my hand, both of which I hate passionately and made me much more uncomfortbale than I felt was necessary. My contractions were terrible but maddeningly irregular and my progress was slow and I had terrible back labor and was in so much pain I felt like I was going to lose my everloving mind. I finally had an epidural on Thursday afternoon, which was very scary for me, but in the end not as scary as the thought of even one more minute of that pain. After that it was not so bad, they put me back on pitocin to help things along and by 7:45pm I was ready to go. I am a champion pusher apparently and 29 minutes later I had my slippery son on my chest and we were blinking at each other, exhausted and bewildered but together at last.

His name is Hunter Atlas and I love him more than anything.
Born 02/06/2014 at 8:14pm; 7 lbs, 9 oz; 21 3/4 inches long.

Phil was excellent throughout the labor and birth, just like I told everyone he would be.  It's a huge adjustment, being a new family of three, but we are doing well.

fine

I'd never been in that alley before; I didn't know where it would let out. Had to turn left instead of right because I came out farther down the street than I thought I would, and then I ran those last two blocks home. I clattered down the stairs to my basement room, curled up as small as I could, fell asleep clenched and gasping. Woke up late, and my roommates had already gone for the day. Dragged myself upstairs to shower, the hottest shower I could stand. Washed my hair twice. Scrubbed my fingers, my palms, under my nails. Sat limp on the floor of the tub and let the water beat down. I listened to it gurgle, loud, watched it swirl in the drain. It could have been an hour, two hours, a hundred. When I came to again I bundled my clothes up in a towel and threw them in the laundry. Hottest setting, lots of detergent. Waited, tense, on the end of my bed for the beep of the washing machine, then the dryer. Hot, hot, kill the germs. Kill the germs. Hot.

When my clothes were clean I put them in a plastic bag, along with the towel that had touched them, and I took the bag out to the dumpster and threw them away. My favorite sweatshirt too, and my earrings, and my shoes -- everything I had been wearing the day before. And the blanket I had slept on top of that night. Garbage now. Gone.

And then I was calm. I was calm because I was in control again. There was no evidence, none. It must have been a dream. It was all a terrible dream I had, and I would soon forget it.

My mum dropped by later.

"How are you?" she said.
"Fine," I said. "I'm fine."