Justin Timberlake had just belted out his opening tune during the half time show when I felt a cramp that was the equivalent to a steak knife stabbing my abdomen. It was at that moment that I put my plate of super bowl goodies down, looked over at my sister and decided to call my ob.
It was February 4th, 2018 and I was 9 months pregnant. I woke up that Sunday, made my usual bathroom trip and thought to myself, I think today is the day. I had started feeling a slight tinge in my stomach that morning, not enough to alarm me, but just enough to make me aware. I drank more water and waited for either my water to break or for the pains to become so unbearable I’d have to act on them. After all, I certainly did not want to be a false alarm, taking up valuable resources at the hospital.
My sister and brother-in-law invited us to their house for the game. Peter stayed home and meal prepped for his work week and I went to Kroger and waddled around trying to find something to share at their gathering (and I secretly hoped that walking around the store would help move this pregnancy along).
So there I was, watching the half time show, clenching the arms of the sofa, when I decided it was time. I called my ob and explained my symptoms, of course she advised to come in and that she would be the on call Dr. the next morning, so I felt at ease. My younger sister went to pick up Peter and he drove me to the hospital.
Once I was placed on the toco monitor and I saw the contractions myself, I knew there was no turning back now. I was already dilated too much and Charlotte was on her way very soon. I was thankful that I listened to my body. Charlotte didn’t wait for my ob, about 6 hours later she entered the world with the ob on call that night. She arrived at 1 am. With tiny feet and a tiny nose, she filled up a very large space in our hearts. Can’t believe she’ll be 1.