‘Twas the night before I would become a mother. My own mother was in town, eagerly awaiting the birth of her grandson. She made me spicy chili for dinner, in the hopes that the spiciness would help spur on labor. While it might not work for everyone, it may have helped me… It’s now called “Oliver’s Chili.” :)

I was 39 weeks, 1 day pregnant that evening. I was set to be induced a few days later, as is customary for a mom with T1D. Why? Due to the possibility of placental failure late in pregnancy, and the tendency for moms with diabetes to have large babies, most pregnancies with T1D end in induction or a C-section sometime during weeks 37-39. This is something that I had learned a few years before my pregnancy when I saw one of my friends post an outraged status about it on Facebook. I had tucked that piece of info away, knowing when it was my turn to give birth, I would face the same protocol.

Protocol or not, I wanted to go into labor on my own. I was nervous about the possibility of being induced and the “cascade of interventions” that often follows. At an OB appointment earlier that day, I had asked my doctor to do a membrane sweep when she did the customary cervical check (1cm dilated! But she was quick to warn me that you can stay that way for a long time…) of a late-term appointment. Aside from a little bleeding and what Google told me was maybe part of my mucus plug, not much had changed. So I was walking and eating spicy food and generally just willing this baby to make his debut a little on the early side. By that evening, I was ready to resign the battle. After tentatively booking an induction for later that week, I had started to let go of my hopes for things starting on their own.

I went to bed that night with no inkling of what would happen next…

And woke up what seemed to be only a blink later, with one very strong contraction. I knew what it was instantly. But then I didn’t feel another one.

Disappointed, I started to doubt myself. I got up and went to the bathroom… and my body basically cleared itself out. (Sorry if that’s TMI, but birth isn’t always pretty! And for you mamas out there—you need to know how it happens for real!)

After a few minutes of nothing else happening, I went back to bed. I was determined to get more sleep if things were happening. It was only 12:30am and I’m a person who doesn’t pull all-nighters!

Baby Oliver had other ideas. He stubbornly woke me up an hour later with another contraction. And this time it was followed by more. I was confused. These weren’t the “gentle” contractions I was expecting at the beginning of labor. These hurt! It felt like my pelvis was splitting apart with every one of them. It turns out that I wasn’t going to get a slow ramp-up into active labor. I just got a rude awakening!

After a few of these intense contractions that were evenly spaced (I think they were about 5 minutes apart from the start, but I can’t quite remember), I woke Sam up and he agreed that they seemed like the real deal. He helpfully remembered that the doula who taught our childbirth education classes had said that the “pelvis splitting apart” feeling was part of what contractions would feel like. I didn’t remember that and it felt validating to know that my feeling wasn’t something unusual. I was really in labor!

I decided to cope by hopping in the shower. My time in the shower didn’t last long—the contractions were getting more intense and I knew we needed to wake up my mom and head to the hospital. Everyone agreed that it was time when they saw me struggling to cope and maintain coherent thought during contractions. I honestly don’t remember the exact timing of the contractions, but there was no doubt that this was the real deal, based on their intensity and that they were regularly spaced apart.

We all piled into my RAV4 and started the 20 minute drive to the hospital. It was still dark and very early, so we avoided LA traffic on a Tuesday morning going from Burbank to West Hollywood. I worked at Cedars-Sinai hospital, where I would be giving birth. My mom sat up front and Sam drove. I was buckled in, but lying across the back seat, trying to cope with contractions while barely noticing the drive. My mom and Sam seemed way too chipper—listening to the radio, they had the audacity to try to change the station when T Swift’s “Shake it Off” came on. “Leave it on! I like it!” I commanded from the back seat. (True story—haha!)

We arrived at the hospital while it was still dark. My mom took me to Labor & Delivery, while Sam parked. In triage, we were thrilled to learn that I was already 5.5cm dilated! (I was super thankful that this pain was leading me somewhere!)

To be continued…