At 37 weeks and 1 day pregnant with my second child, a white Jeep full of teenage boys made a left turn into the setting sun and crashed into our car innocently going through a green light on the way to Target. Neither car was going that fast so no one was really hurt, but the front of our GTI was totaled, airbags had deployed, Paolo was scared and crying and I had some gnarly bruises forming on my safely buckled belly.
The ambulance came and I had to be taken to a trauma ER because of how far along I was and the bruising. Ultrasounds and blood tests showed that both baby and I were ok, but we still had to stay overnight for observation. I barely had fallen asleep by 1am and was abruptly awakened by beeping and nurses rushing in with oxygen masks because the babyâs blood pressure had suddenly dropped. Things normalized quickly but I didnât really fall back to sleep after that, just counted down the minutes until PJ could come back with Paolo and bring me home.
Fast forward to 38 weeks and I woke up feeling like I either had severe night sweats... in just my lower half, or I had just peed myself. But I didnât smell like pee and I didnât really feel sweaty. I couldnât shake the feeling that something was going on, so I cancelled my 9am Best Butt Ever class at the gym (even preggos gotta work that booty) and begged PJ to take me in to the hospital to check before he left for work. I never made any false labor runs with my first pregnancy so I felt like I had a free pass to be over-cautious this time. I was full prepared to be called out for wetting my pants and sent right back home.
I explained the situation to the nurse in Triage as I put on the hospital gown and she took my vitals. She kind of nodded her head and said itâs always ok to come check but yeah, most likely Iâm just another pregnant lady peeing herself. There was a test that resembled an at-home pregnancy test pee stick that would show if infact there was amniotic fluid leaking and we waited a minute before the nurse glanced at the stick and started to say something. Then she stopped and looked again. Then she walked over by the window, where the light was better, and asked PJ, âDoes that look like a line to you?â Yep, it was positive. âWell, nevermind, youâre not going anywhere!â She laughed and PJ and I just stared wide eyed at each other.
My water had technically âbrokenâ but I wasnât in any kind of labor yet. I had zero contractions and was still pretty much the 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced I was at my ob/gyn appointment the day before. My doctor had predicted it would happen in the coming week, and I had written in my journal that I was wondering about April 2nd. Well, April fools on me - this baby was coming now. We waited a few hours for my body to start contracting on its own, but since I couldnât remember exactly when I first felt the leaking we didnât want to wait too long. Eventually, I had to get Pitocin and while I was totally freaked out by the horror stories Iâd been told about the pain of âinducedâ labor, the nurse assured me that it was no more painful than unassisted labor. Itâs just when you start to have contractions at home they usually start slow and build up and youâre in the comfort of your own space and a little distracted. With induced labor youâre just waiting focusing on those contractions to just ramp right up from the getgo. And they did. PJ has taken Paolo home to pack up some stuff for us. We had no one lined up to watch him, so armed with an iPad and lots of snacks, the little guy was in it for the long haul with us.
While they were gone, Iâm not sure if it was home or just wandering around the hospital getting lunch, I got an epidural. The contractions were getting serious and as the nurse helped me sit sideways on the hospital bed and the anesthesiologist worked on my spine I felt a whoosh of water and that dang slow leak seemed to burst like a south swell hitting the HB pier. I remember apologizing profusely and laughing but also crying and then just being very grateful for the drugs.
When the boys came back, PJ was pleased to see I had the epidural (insert eye roll) and Paolo was wary of all the things I was hooked up to. He was loving the hospital and the snacks and the attention from adoring nurses but was noticeably distant from me. He was still nursing to sleep and sometimes for comfort at this point, but had zero interest in me or my boob. It was nice to see him so happy and having fun, but I was kind of sad he didnât seem to need me.
PJ worked on his laptop, Paolo watched the iPad and napped, I think the nurse gave me a plain turkey sandwich at one point which I thought wasnât allowed but I ate it because I was STARVING. There was nothing good on the staticky TV. (I remembered the television being much nicer with Paolo.) Some dumb movie, maybe with Melissa McCarthy, was on and I recall thinking I donât want my baby being born to âTammyâ (or whatever it was) and then being relieved when reruns of the Office came on.
It felt like it took forever for my cervix to kick into action. Hours between 3cm and 5cm dilated. I think I had been hovering around 6-7 cm for a while when I started to suddenly feel pretty ready to go. The nurse came in to check again but was in the process of telling me just relax and itâll happen eventually when her eyebrows popped up in surprise and she told me that wow, yeah I was basically at 10. The doctor rushed in, having been out at some event for her own kid (definitely not expecting to see me so soon) and PJ came to my side. Paolo was back on the iPad in ignorant bliss as I started to push and at 19:08 he had a beautiful, tiny, 6lb 11oz baby brother.
This was Good Friday (and truly it was great) but while every one was trying to rush us out by Easter Sunday, we were worried about leaving too soon. Weâd barely stayed one night with Paolo and once we were home we realized he had jaundice and ended up having to go to a different, much less nice hospital for his 24 hour blue light treatment. We also hadnât exactly decided on a name yet, much to the dismay of the intern, volunteer, assistant(?) who kept coming in every hour trying to get us to complete the birth certificate. Paolo had already been telling people for weeks that his brotherâs name was âEnzoâ so we were kind of stuck with that, but the middle name had eluded us. We texted friends and family members, frantically googled name meanings and combinations. Finally we decided on âPhilippe,â (âfill-eepâ) it was a beautiful French name, (like my own, Celeste) it started with the strong âFfâ sound I had been drawn to (I had considered Frank, after my great-grandfather, or Fisher, an ode to my surname which means âfishermanâ), but when it comes down to it, we named him after a sandwich. Philippeâs is one of the oldest restaurants in Los Angeles and most likely originated the French Dip. Itâs a really cool spot and the food is solid. Coincidentally, Philippe emigrated from France to the US via Buffalo, NY (PJâs hometown) before moving to LA. Regardless, it was Enzo Philippe. We brought him home and everytime I think I know anything, he still surprises me, just like we surprised all those nurses along the way that day. Motherhood is just the best, hardest, wildest ride.
