All the gory deets

The day before I went into labor I called my friend Jasmine, it was her birthday and I wanted to get together the following day and have lunch, as I couldn't take her out and get crunk because I was 9 months pregnant.
The conversation went as follows:
Me: Man, I hope that you'll be the one bringing me lunch because Ive had this stubborn baby.
Jasmine: Yeah, that would be awesome, I still cant believe your doing it naturally, my mom did and she felt like she was being ripped in half.
Me:Super.
The day went on as usual, however, I did have a huge burst of energy which allowed me to finally get to my baby shower thank yous, pack my bag for the birthing center and whip Steve's room into shape.
I went to bed that night, resigning myself to the fact that I was going to be pregnant and gigantic for the rest of my life, continually growing a baby and the end result being a grown woman shooting out of my stomach a la' Alien.
Alas, that night I woke up with severe stomach pains and a little gush in my pants.
I had been waiting for this moment for the past 3 weeks, thinking it would never come and now I was in denial.
That's not my water breaking and these aren't contractions.
I totally just peed my pants a little and I'm gassy.
Ill just go back to sleep in my pee pants.
Which is what I did, knowing full well that in a few hours I would be pushing a baby out the old fashioned way.
About an hour later, I couldn't toss and turn and ignore the pains anymore but I was still in denial.
I think I just have to poop, yeah, that's the problem, I'm not in labor. So, I went to the bathroom successfully and figured I would just go back to bed. At which point, I doubled over in a contraction.
OK, I think Ill wake my husband up now.
Me: (shaking Charlie) Hey, pretty sure my water broke and I'm in labor.
Charlie: Oh, OK.
Me: (shaking him more violently) Did  you hear what I just said? Are you still laying there?!
Charlie: Yeah, alright I'm up.
I paged the Midwife on call and told her what was going on, she told me to go back to sleep and try to get some rest until my contractions were a little closer together.
I decided to use my time a little wiser and do the dishes and take a shower.
Charlie called my mom and she came to pick up Steve, by this time my contractions were getting to the point that erased any doubt from my mind that I wasn't in labor.
I was blow drying my hair and swearing while walking in place to move through the contractions, which were still pretty doable, like severe menstrual cramps.
My mom finally got to our house and her and Charlie were trying to get Steve to wake up, he was pretty pissed about the whole situation because it was 3 am and Charlie was trying to get a shirt and shoes on him, while my Mom stood over them trying to calm Steve and I'm aggressively asking if he has all of his things and his car seat while trying to deal with knives in my uterus.
They got him downstairs and shit really started to hit the fan. I was pacing back and forth between the bathroom upstairs and Steve's room, hanging on the shower curtain rod stomping and breathing through each one, when I heard my Moms innocent voice quietly tell Charlie that she just wanted to come upstairs and say goodbye. Hearing this sent me into a rage.
No! Stay down there! I screamed from the top of the stairs, a loving motherly hug was really the last thing I was in the mood for.
I was in the mood for an epidural, if you don't have one of those, get the hell out of here.
She left and I came downstairs breathing hard and not believing that in a few hours I would have a little baby in my arms.
I paced around the living room and called my Midwife again, she told us to be at the birthing center in an hour.
An hour?
Shit, cant we leave now? Someone do something! Why am I the only one actively doing anything? This is a bunch of horse shit!
That hour was a bunch of hard breathing, yelling I can do this and Charlie supportively rubbing my back, but not doing it the way that I wanted him to which was hard for him to tell because I wasn't actually communicating with words, more quiet grunts and hand waving and breath holding and angry faces.
We made our way into the car and I had one contraction on the way there, its only a 4 minute drive to the center which was fantastic, I couldn't imagine having many more in the car because that was probably the worst place ever. I was totally butt off the seat, hanging onto the handle on the ceiling like it was going to save my life.
We parked and I ran in hunched over, thinking I would hop into the tub and life would be beautiful and painless. I would gently and calmly push out my little girl into the water and life would be glorious.
It didn't really go down like that.
Darlene, my midwife, was there to greet me at the door with a little smile on her face asking how I was doing.
I grunted something cavemanish and kept walking into the room.
The room was perfect, its like a super swanky hotel suite with a nice bed, couch and huge tub. There were candles lit, the bath was filled and the lights were dim along with some soothing music.
I grabbed the bed frame and hunched over, with Charlie at my back we both started breathing through a really strong contraction. The only problem was that I was entirely focused on the music they were playing, Colby Caliet. I hate her music, like cant stand her. I figured I could deal with it but I seriously was getting angrier and angrier about the damn music.
"Is this Colby Caliet?"
"Yes it is" the birthing assistant answered brightly.
"Turn it off, she makes me want to die!"
The music was immediately replaced with Pandora on Coldplay, I think.
When I imagined myself giving birth, I was always clothed, because the people that get totally naked and are OK with it are weird. I always thought that, especially when watching a Baby Story on TLC. The naked moms in the tub with people around are weirdos and I was going to give birth with a little decency.
Not so.
It was hot as shit in there and I was uncomfortable.
Ive got a Go-Go knife dance party happening in my womb and I'm sweating like James Gandolfini.
Get this damn shirt off me! I ripped off all of my clothes in front of the two birthing assistants and Darlene and didn't think twice about it.
I leapt into the tub thinking this is it! I'm going to be relaxed and the pain will be minimal. This is a lie. I awkwardly maneuvered my way around the tub, trying to find a good position to no avail all while dealing with the contractions with the same amount of pain.
Finally, I hobbled out with extensive help from Charlie and let Darlene check me
7 centimeters dilated. I had been laboring for 3.5 hours and I was only to 7, what the hell is 10 going to feel like?
Like shit, that's what its going to feel like.
She told me that I needed to labor hanging over something for whatever reason and so I labored on an exercise ball on all fours for a while.
This is the only point in the entire labor and delivery when I was thinking to myself what in the hell am I doing here? Modern medicine is a wonderful amazing thing. I could be in the hospital asleep right now, not feeling anything. Why am I trying to be a hero?! What was I thinking?
I never voiced this aloud though, I felt like as soon as I started saying it then it would make it unbearable and I would break down.
After a little while on the ball I felt like there was so much pressure happening that if I could just pee it would make things feel so much better. So, Charlie escorted me to the bathroom and I started trying to go at which point I realized that it was a baby head issue and not a bladder problem.
I quickly walked back into the room and kind of toppled onto the bed and ended up on my side, with Charlie holding one leg and the assistant holding the other.
It felt like she was right there, like I could push and she would just be out. So, without thinking about it I pushed as hard as I could and screamed. Loudly. At which point, I thought to myself, "Wow, I'm getting a little to primal. I should probably keep that to myself. Jasmines mom was right, this does sort of feel like I'm getting ripped in half. Oh no! I don't want to think of that! Um, push! What song is playing? I'm fine, I'm not getting ripped in half!"
While this interesting conversation was taking place in my brain, I was vaguely aware that Charlie was taking the reigns and delivering our daughter and crying joyful tears.
I was in quiet-primal-beast mode and really only heard Darlene say "OK! One more push and we will have head out!" I dutifully silently pushed and felt better, instantly. "I shouted thank God!"
The next thing I know Charlie is above me holding our daughter, but the only thing I could think of was how I just did that.
I was yelling, "I did it! I fucking did it!" It was the best feeling, knowing that I did that naturally.
I successfully, without tearing or freaking out to much, pushed out an 8 pound baby.
No hospital, no invasive nurses jamming their fingers where they don't belong, no IVs, no belly bands, no lengthy hospital stay. It was incredible, it was the most liberating thing I have ever done and will probably ever do.
My husband delivered our baby and handed her to me and no one grabbed her and took away to do anything. They let us cry and be happy and revel in our little miracle until we were ready to let them weigh and measure her. They made sure that both her and I were perfect, made sure she was latching and eating and then we were free to go. I delivered her at 7:30 am and was home by 9:30 am, eating breakfast and snuggling my little koala bear.
All the pain was worth it, it was perfect and I got the best little baby out of it.

cheers.