I truly believe I got what was coming to me with the birth of my daughter…like, in every way possible.

My only focus had been on her not coming early, she just wasn’t allowed. My October schedule up until her due date was booked and I needed to get all of that done first before I could focus on baby number 2, surgeries, hospitals, swaddling, not sleeping, etc. She also was demanded to be easier than her brother…You can probably guess that nonnnnnne of this went down the way I demanded it go. Zip.

Life lesson…don’t do that again.

To the beginning? Sure, let’s rewind.

I had been putting off getting maternity pictures done because number 1 I am a big procrastinator and also because last time I got them done too early and I didn’t really look THAT preggie, this time… I was gonna look rotund. FAT PICTURES PLEASE.

We picked a date, Oct 1, 5pm, let’s do it. I had this genuis plan that if Pete wasn’t there for the first part that Luke would be all into me and look cute like he actually likes his mom…instead of the normal “ew,stay away, I wanna run and eat dirt, oh look DADS HOME!, hugs.” Take a moment and laughhhhh…ha. Rookie.

He wanted zippo to do with me, being held, sitting still, looking anywhere but away from the camera cuz ya know he’s 20 months old…he’s the normal one, not me. By the time Pete got there I think we were both so frazzled there was just no hope, give up, we’d try again another time….

Mr. photoshoot dream killer went home to eat chick fil a and sleep with P-Pat while Pete and I took the opportunity to eat our feelings (mostly my feelings…ok ALL of my feelings) at Logans Steakhouse, yeast rolls were on the brain…yummy yummy yeast rolls.

We got the dumbest waiter on the planet. Again…karma. But there were rolls…so I got over it.

Sitting there, chatting away, the topic of the babys name came up…

P: If she was born tomorrow…what would you name her?

L: Emma Hope

Someone on the inside heard “born tomorrow? WONDERFUL IDEA!!”

Insert contraction….cept I’d never had one before with Luke (planned C Sect for the win yall)…so I just thought she was getting all stretchy or something in there…or maybe she was anti-yeast rolls, either way “the baby is coming” wasn’t a thought I had… at all.

We went to Toys-r-us to look for trykes for mr. soon to be big brother, didn’t buy one cuz we had 3 weeks and all…psht…went home, plopped on couch, went to bed early with the expectation of waking up on Thursday at 730am like always to the sound of Luke screaming “waffles!!”

And then….dinosaurs started clawing at my stomach to get out. Thats what it felt like…every 4 minutes…initially I thought…”hmm these must be fakeys, nbd, roll over go to sleep”….eeerrrrr wrong answer. I flopped around for a half an hour and then I did what everyone does.. I googled wtf was happening to me. No joke.

The results told my stupid butt that I was probably in labor and that I should be the annoying patient and call my doc at 130am. Sorry doc…I wasn’t prepared either, you told me Monday I was still closseddddd for business and now…dinosaurs. She sent us to the hospital.

I looked at my empty suitcase like it was a question on the MCAT or something… “I DONT KNOW WHAT TO PACK, WHAT IS LABOR, HOSPITAL? WHATS A BABY NEED? DO I NEED A HAIRBRUSH? HELPPPP ME!!”.

Needless to say….after someone wanted to run every red light in Herndon…at times I woulda let him, we made it to the hospital without anything too dramatic…besides my failed attempts at lamaze…thanks Nine Months staring Hugh Grant, i’d know nothing without you…cuz I never took a birth class…why would that make sense?? #idiot.

And just like that, I found myself in the same room as I was when prepping for Luke to be born…scheduled…at 9am like a normal baby…not 2am with evil contractions that make me wanna pull my eyeballs out…OUT.

They asked what my pain level was…”7″….”ohh…really?” asian nurse questioned me…”YES 7!!”. And then she “checked me”…aka tried to check my teeth for cavities from the other end. “2cm, baby coming”.

“F”

She then tried to convince me to push baby out naturally and for 5 delusional minutes I thought it was a good idea…Dr.Allen looked at me as if I myself had turned into a dinosaur…ok ok, right, I forgot who I was for a second, had another contraction and was all “C SECTION, NOW”. I feel like she patted me on the head all “good patient” like and went off to the land of surgical mystery where the next time you see them you’re strapped to a table, numb, and basically a pair of talking eyes.

The entire time… I just kept thinking this was a dream…she has 3 more weeks to bake…I never got new knobs for her dresser…I never made my costco trip…IM NOT READY!

Welp at 5:02am…none of that mattered anymore, she was ready, she was here…

Ready or not, I’m a mom of 2.

6lbs, 8 oz, 20 inch long. Blonde hair, purpley bruised face. Crooked nose. Emma Hope in the house.

Her entrance wasn’t planned, her first few days were stressful (more on this later), and I still look at her and think “you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

But you’re here, hallelujah, pass the subway and diet coke, mamas not preggie anymore!!