I kicked the midwife.
Don’t blame me. It wasn’t like it was on purpose. And I felt horrible afterwards, but I’m pretty sure she went home with an unexpected bruise in her shoulder region. I apologized profusely, and hopped back in the bath. I was to be checked again in a couple of hours. I looked at the clock. It was now 8:15PM. She sat beside me, and poured water over my tummy between contractions. She gave me bites of toast with honey and sips of water.
She was really nice.
I did all I could not to kill her.
45 minutes later I started to get really serious with my contractions. They were now coming in double waves, and I wanted to push. I told my husband, who went to get the midwife who was texting an update to the secondary and student. She told me that just doesn’t happen. I told her again. She said we’d wait a couple of contractions and see how it goes. I told her again. She told me to go ahead and push a little with my body. 2 contractions later she said, “Well, lets just see if anything has changed.” She assured me that it was highly unlikely, and my waters had not yet broken. I got out of the bath and got checked. The look on her face said it all. “You’re….” “What?,” I asked in frustration, just knowing that I was sitting at 2 cm still. “You’re ready to push. If you’re going to the hospital, we’ve got to go now”. “I’m not going anywhere!” I said.
~to be continued~