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Tuesday, July 16th
My last day of work in the office! It’s also a full moon. I was hoping that baby would come tonight but no sign of her. My husband and I go to the beach near our house and get ice cream. I noticed the waitress licks ice cream off her thumb before scooping my cone. I resist the urge to vomit, but it’s difficult. We walk (more of a waddle for me) a little bit along the ocean but it’s hot and I’m so uncomfortable we only last a few minutes.
Wednesday, July 17th
It’s my due date!
6:40 AM I wake up with what feels like strong period cramps. It takes a moment to register that, holy shit, this could be labor. The pain is enough to have woken me up from a sound sleep before my alarm. I get up and pull on a tank top and the only shorts that fit me. I am very uncomfortable. My stomach is tightening and cramping at intermittent intervals. I feel it mostly between my belly button and pubic bone on the very front of my abdomen. I wake up DH and tell him I think I might be in labor. This proves difficult to do because every time the wind has rustled my leg hair for the past 3 weeks I’ve announced “I’M IN LABOR!!!!!!!!” He suggests we take a walk. We stroll (I lumber) around the vernal pool in our neighborhood, stopping regularly so I can hunch over and focus on my breathing. We get back to the house and I am straight up not having a good time. My stomach hurts and the sentient bowling ball in my abdomen is still kicking around against my muscles. I cry for the first time. I have my 40 week appointment with my OBGYN at 11:00 AM at the hospital, and I’m glad. My water hasn’t broken but given the amount of discomfort I am experiencing, my cervix has to be open. It has to. Right?
9:30 AM We get in the car and make a Dunkin run. “I’M IN LABOR!” I announce to the disinterested woman making my large iced caramel swirl. “WITH A BABY!” I specify when she doesn’t make an announcement to the store.
9:45 AM The car does not feel good. It’s not unbearable, but I’m glad we’re going to the hospital now.
11:00 AM We check in at the hospital and I make sure the receptionist who I’ve seen every week for what feels like exactly 700 years knows I’M IN LABOR. We shuffle back to a room. They do not bother trying to weigh me after I asked if I could remove all of my clothes before doing so the last time.
11:10 AM My OBGYN tells me she thinks I’M IN LABOR and wants me to walk around. I cry for the second time. Partly because this is really happening and partly because it’s hotter than hell and I can’t imagine going back outside and heaving myself forward for even 5 plodding steps. But this biggest part is that I so want this to be real. I want to be in labor. I feel like I’ve been waiting for so long and I desperately want it to happen. She checks my cervix. It is high, tight, and fully closed. She tells me to try walking for a few hours I repeat HOURS and to check back at Labor & Delivery at 4:00 PM. She thinks she will see me with a baby tomorrow.
12:00 PM DH and I walk along the Riverway for about 20 minutes. By this point it is over 90 degrees and I want to choke everyone in sight, especially those with open cervixes. I’m feeling faint from the combination of the heat and pain. The contractions are coming in waves and sweat is dripping off of my head. I stop every few steps to drape myself over a bench. DH and I decide to grab lunch and regroup.
12:15 PM For the first time probably ever, I am repulsed by food. Ok, maybe this is really happening.
12:30 PM I am quite literally melting down. I am now uncomfortable both standing and sitting. It is so hot I can’t think straight. I don’t know how I’m going to make it another 3 ½ hours before going back to the hospital so I suggest we go see a movie. My hope is that I can fall asleep in one of the big easy chairs they have and just relax in the AC. DH doesn’t want to trek all the way over there, and after deliberating in the parking garage we decide to go home instead.
1:00 PM I fucking hate the drive home.
1:30 PM We’re home! And outside, the most apocalyptic storm we have ever seen is raging. It is as dark as midnight and thunder cracks so loud it sounds like it’s coming from inside the house. I pace our apartment and count the minutes until 4:00 PM, when we can go back to the hospital. My contractions are now timeable and lasting 1 minute.
4:00 PM After exactly 700 hours, we can call Labor & Delivery! We relay the message from my OBGYN. They ask how long and far apart my contractions are (5 minutes, 1 minute). They give us the green light to go back in.
4:20 PM I gingerly walk to the car. Every step comes with shooting pain in my uterus. I am convinced I am dying. I think I cry for the third time here- I can’t imagine getting back in that car.
4:30 PM Super surreal drive to the hospital. The storm is raging, it’s raining buckets, and fire trucks and emergency vehicles are everywhere. I use my legs to lift my butt up off the seat every time a contraction hits because even running over a blade of grass with the car sends shockwaves of pain through my body.
4:45 PM Oh good, rush hour.
5:30 PM We arrive at Labor & Delivery! They hook me up to some monitors and ask about my symptoms. A doctor, bless him, comes in and checks my cervix with his knuckle. I am 1.5 cm dilated. At this moment I wish for a vagina dentata to snap off said knuckle and spit it back at him.
5:35 PM They hand me a pile of cold packs and. Send. Me. Home. Again.
5:45 PM Another fucking car ride.
6:45 PM We arrive home and I am bordering on hysterics. I have been in (prodromal) labor for 12 hours now with no progress. My head is spinning trying to imagine the pain it’s going to take for me to get to 10 cm. DH doses me with Benadryl so I can get some rest- I haven’t eaten much and I’m starting to feel loopy. We order a margherita pizza which actually fucking slaps. It registers in my brain that it tastes good, but I can’t enjoy it because of the pain. It feels like my body is being torn in half. It feels like the worst poop cramps I’ve ever had in my life. I am pretty sure my stomach is going to fall out of my butt. Laying down hurts so DH makes me a nest out of pillows and props me up on the couch.
8:00 PM I fall asleep.
9:30 PM I wake up. The house is dark and DH is snoring soundly. I have a moment of peace and then another contraction hits. The pain is so bad I am fairly certain that pizza will be my last meal. I cringe and say “OW OW OW OW OW” as the pain rolls through me. I start pacing the house, and continue doing so for the next 7 hours. DH wakes up periodically, fearing a wounded goat has gotten lost in our building. I curse him and his demon seed. To say I am straight up not having a good time is the understatement of the millennium. I never knew the human body was capable of withstanding this type of pain.
Thursday, July 18th
4:00 AM I can’t take it anymore and wake DH up to being me to L&D. I’m delirious, moaning, and sweating. We pile back into the car and drive to the hospital (again).
5:00 AM The sun is coming up over the city and it’s absolutely beautiful. More importantly, I Google celebrity birthdays for 7/18 and am over the moon that my child will share a birthday with Vin Diesel.
5:01 AM I remember I am in crippling pain.
5:15 AM We arrive at Labor and Delivery again. We explain how long I’ve been having contractions and they, you know, SEE my agony and offer me a bed in the antepartum unit. Basically the hospital we used is so big that they have a pre-prenatal floor. I go to a room and wait for a nurse.
6:00 AM The nurse comes in and explains my options. Turns out all of my options at this point are, uh, morphine. DH and I had had a discussion about what pain management I wanted (spoiler alert: all of it) in relation to my sobriety. While I certainly was not opposed to pain management, I wanted to be very careful about any narcotics or opiates that the hospital might offer. We explained this to the nurse and she shrugged and said it was up to me. She also mentioned that the morphine might relax my muscles enough to allow my cervix to dilate past 1.5 cms. SOLD. She prepared the morphine and I realize it is an injection. A really really big injection.
6:01 AM An injection that’s going into my butt.
6:05 AM WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Pain? What pain? I mean, I know it’s there but I DON’T CARE. There is a snack cart, too. I eat a chocolate muffin off the cart in a blackout.
6:20 AM The nurse comes back and asks how I’m feeling. Great! I reply. She reminds me that I can’t get the full course of pain management unless I am, you know, experiencing pain. Oh yeah! Pain! I have some of that! Don’t care, but I have it!
6:21 AM I quite literally turn the other cheek and receive my second injection of morphine. DH notes that my eyes roll in two different directions.
6:22 AM The nurse informs us that my cervix should dilate while I’m resting, but if it hasn’t gotten to a 4 by the time she checks me at noon, she’ll have to send me home. She tells me she’ll return but that if I’m sleeping, she’ll have no choice but to let me sleep longer.
6:23 AM My eyes are still rolling around like marbles but DH informs me that the nurse is a G and has basically given us a free pass to relax in the unit until I am a 4. I have never before wanted to be a 4 more than now.
7:00 AM I rest, but don’t sleep. Time has no meaning. The wallpaper is BEAUTIFUL.
8:00 AM At some point I am pretty sure I hijack the snack cart once more.
9:00 AM The nurse returns. DH is fast asleep. I am not. She looks me dead in the eye and I feel like a kid who has been caught awake on Christmas Eve by Santa. I quickly shut my eyes and she continues with her rounds.
11:00 AM The nurse returns again. I am pretty sure she winks at me but I might just be high as fuck.
1:00 PM The nurse returns once more. She pulls on a rubber glove and approaches my dais, as it were. The moment of truth… I’m a 3.5!!!!!!!! She says it’s good enough for her and sends my ass upstairs in a wheelchair. It’s been nearly 7 hours and I’m still legless from my double shot of morphine.
1:15 PM I meet my Lord and Savior, Saint Abigail, sweet L&D nurse. She gets me set up in my very own delivery room, which is absolutely massive. There’s a window! And a bed for my baby! I’m going to have a baby in this room!!!!
1:20 PM I watch a different nurse put actual essential oils on a cotton ball and place it on my pillow. I know for a fact this is not a morphine vision because DH remembers it too.
3:00 PM The morphine starts to wear off and the contractions are even worse than before. I don’t know how this is possible. After 30 hours you’d think my body would have adjusted to them a bit, but no. A shower sounds good to me, but there are two showers for the whole floor and it is down the hall, which at this point, given my pain level, may as well be Siberia. I’m in a johnny, clutching DH’s arm, scooting by bare butt down the hall.
3:05 PM The shower is basically in a janitorial closet across from the nurse’s station, but there is water, and it is hot. And a yoga ball! This all sounds amazing until I strip down and actually start bouncing on the ball. Ow. Ow ow. OW. Pain, oh pain! Somehow the bouncing makes my contractions worse. I lose my mucus plug in the shower. It looks like the saddest blood loogie spat in front of North Station. The hot water feels nice but I am surprised at how much I am not loving the showeball combo, which I had been looking forward to for months. I just feel massive, unstable, and slippery. DH helps me get dried off and we slowly make our way back to the room, where…
3:30 PM I SLAM that goddamn epidural button. The hospital keeps an anesthesiologist on the floor at all times so you don’t have to wait long for the epidural. However, Saint Abigail mentions that I will not be able to eat once they’ve placed the epidural, and suggests I order dinner for myself and DH. I order plain pasta like a normal person who just wants to get this goddamn baby out of her and DH, monster that he is, orders the straight up smelliest meal I have ever encountered. I don’t remember what it was but it was probably a dirty shoe stuffed with durian. I contemplate divorce but realize I will probably need a hand to squeeze when the 8 lb game hen wriggling around in my stomach needs to be evacuated. I eat my pasta in silence, breathing through my mouth.
6:30 PM Saint Abigail brings in the anesthesiologist who is genuinely one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He’s young, not alarmingly so, but young enough that I want to be stoic and impress him with my ability to take a large hollow needle to the spinal cord. They tell me DH needs to leave which freaks me out, because I wanted to be able to hold his hands and literally lean on him when they threaded in the epidural. Apparently they need a sterile environment and husbands aren’t a part of that. So he leaves, I strip down, they tape a cloth with a square cut out of it to my back, and wash me down twice. Mind you, my contractions are slamming into me this entire time. Abigail reads the consent form to me one more time and I shakily sign it. The anesthesiologist has me lean all the way forward on to Abigail and take a deep breath in and release it. I feel literally NOTHING. I had panicked about the epidural for actual months and it felt like nothing. I feel a strange sensation like cold water being poured down my body and then what felt like what I can only describe as static in the lower half of my body. I resist the urge to deep tongue kiss the young anesthesiologist- I can’t believe it’s over!- and Abigail helps me get situated back in bed.
6:32 PM DH returns and I confess my impure thoughts about the anesthesiologist.
6:35 PM I post on Facebook that I want to buy epidurals for all of my friends.
6:45 PM I drunk dial my coworker using Facebook Messenger video (even though I have her phone number) because everyone is at the company’s summer party. She doesn’t answer.
7:00 PM Abigail’s shift is ending but she tells me she’ll be back in the morning. I am sad to see her go, especially because the new nurse has the personality of a ball of lint. We decide that now is a good time to try to get some sleep before things get really crazy. The doctor estimated that I’d be ready to push in a few hours so I snuggle in to bed with my dead legs and drift off.
7:30 PM One of the many monitors hooked up to my half-limp body bursts to life with a shrill melody. A blood pressure cuff beeps and tightens on my bicep. Lint Ball saunters in to check my vitals. I feel strange and have the urge to reach down to my vagina parts. I don’t feel my hand touch them but my hand touches something syrupy. I am pretty sure my water has broken. Linty pulls back the sheet and sure as shit, my water has broken. She wipes me down with towels and I don’t feel much. She has to go back several times with more towels, like way more towels than you would think one would need to clean up a small pool of amniotic fluid. DH later describes the fluid and tissue that she removes as looking like a diseased jellyfish.
7:45 PM I drift off to sleep without my jellyfish. I wonder how the baby can breathe or move in there now.
8:00 PM The blood pressure cuff beeps and tightens.
8:30 PM The blood pressure cuff beeps and tightens.
9:00 PM The blood pressure cuff beeps and tightens.
9:30 PM The blood pressure cuff beeps and tightens.
9:48 PM DH snores heartily.
10:00 PM The blood pressure cuff beeps and tightens. I search for something to throw at DH’s head.
10:12 PM An alarm screeches next to me. The monitor for the baby’s heartbeat has slipped down from my stomach. Lint Ball takes this very personally.
10:30 PM Beeping, tightening.
11:00 PM Tightening, beeping.
11:30 PM This is my life now.
11:59 PM I guess my daughter won't share a birthday with Vin Diesel after all.
Friday, July 19th
12:00 PM Beeping, tightening. Maybe I can sleep through it?
12:30 PM Beeping, tightening. No.
1:00 AM LB tells me I’ll be 10 cms and ready to push in a matter of hours. She advises me to get some rest.
1:02 AM I take an internal vow of celibacy.
1:30 AM I have reached the bargaining stage.
4:30 AM Holy shit, I slept?!?!
4:45 AM LB informs me that I’m 9 cm. She sticks a peanut ball betwixt my knees to help the baby get into a better position. Once that’s situated she tells me she’s going to check in with the on call doc and will return shortly for me to push!!!!
5:10 AM LB is back. We wake up DH. It’s go time. Oh my god. I’m going to push a baby out of my vagina hole.
5:15 AM DH has one leg and LB has the other. LB tells me to take a deep breath in and bear down for ten seconds. She counts to ten with such ferocity that I can practically see the slide in the PowerPoint that the Labor & Delivery nurses had to read about motivating patients. I can’t stand her.
5:30 AM I understand that DH is trying to be helpful but he is loudly chewing Nicorette in my ear and not pushing a baby out of his vagina hole.
5:45 AM I feel like nothing is happening. The routine is 10 seconds of pushing, take a breath, 10 more seconds of pushing, take a breath, 10 more seconds of pushing, rest. I’m definitely pushing for the first ten seconds, but the subsequent rounds aren’t doing anything. DH and LB insist that they are.
6:00 AM LB has me get on my side to try pushing from there. She’s still putting unnecessary exclamation marks after every number she counts off.
6:30 AM LB and DH can see the head. I reach down and touch it but don’t feel anything. They explain that they can only see baby’s head while I’m pushing, then it retracts back when I stop. LB asks if I want The Mirror. Bitch of course I want The Mirror!!!!!!!!! I didn’t gestate this creature for 9 months just to look away when she wormed her way into the world! I’m a girl who loves looking at discarded pore strips up close and took 55 photos of my pregnancy bloody nose wreckage, of course I want to see the baby come out of my vagina!
6:31 AM Maybe I don’t want to see the baby come out of my vagina.
6:32 AM Wow I really haven’t shaved in a minute.
6:33 AM I really feel like my vulva doesn’t fit my personality.
6:40 AM I have officially been in labor for two days and your girl is tired.
6:45 AM LB has me change positions again and brings out some sort of home gym apparatus that I’m supposed to use as a pull up bar whenever I push. I?????
6:50 AM LB loops a sheet around the pull up bar and tells me to try using that for leverage. For some reason this actually works for me, but I’m so exhausted I can’t do it for long.
6:55 AM Ladies and gentlemen, LB has left the chat. Oh my god, Saint Abigail is back!! This gives me a burst of energy. And I continue pushing pushing pushing. It’s been nearly 2 hours.
7:00 AM Oh my god I am tired.
7:10 AM No human has possibly ever been this tired, ever. I am tired and sweaty and I realize my lips are so chapped. I ask DH for my Bite Beauty Agave Lip Mask in my purse. He hands me a tube of Nivea Moisture Lip Care. I ask him if that looks like the Bite Beauty Agave Lip Mask. He rummages around in my purse some more and pulls out Huda Beauty Liquid Matte Lipstick in the shade Bombshell. I look at him and blink. I really don’t want to fight in front of Abigail. I blink again, aggressively. He hands me the purse and I immediately pull out the Bite Beauty Agave Lip Mask.
7:25 AM Pushing is a little easier with Abigail’s encouragement, but I still feel like nothing it happening. My assbone hurts like hell though.
7:45 AM I am overcome with nausea. I vocalize this and Abigail holds an emesis bag while I empty my stomach of plain pasta. I feel… wrong. She takes my temperature and sees I have spiked a fever. She checks my fluid with a white towel and it has taken on a nasty greenish tinge. Baby’s heart rate spikes. She quickly tells me that baby needs to come out NOW. I push like hell and continue vomiting periodically.
7:55 AM A doctor enters the room and reiterates that baby needs to come out NOW. He asks if I’m up to pushing any more. I am not. I’ve been in labor for 49 hours and pushing for 2 ½ hours. We call it- I’m having a C-section. For some reason I ask if it’s an emergency. He informs me that if it were, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.
8:00 AM After the doctor leaves the room Abigail informs me that I am next in line for surgery, jumping to the top of the queue for scheduled C-sections. I feel very VIP, and very scared. She tells DH to pack up the room because we won’t be coming back after the procedure.
8:10 AM Abigail wheels me out of the room. Bye room! She explains that because I am having surgery, DH will need to cap and gown up. I am so terrified I can’t think straight but for some reason the notion of his bald head in a hairnet is very entertaining to me.
8:15 AM I’m in the surgery room. It is very bright and very cold. There are about 15 people in there and the radio is playing. They strap my arms down and hang a curtain across my body, blocking everything below my shoulders from view. No one really explains what’s happening and I have never been more scared in my life.
8:20 AM I am told that they are going to wash my stomach. They wash it twice. I am told that they need to shave some of my pubic hair. I am grateful and a little disappointed I’m too out of it to make a Brazilian wax joke. They do not bring out the power tools for the shaving. I am incredulous. Everyone is talking over each other and I am panicking because I can’t imagine how they can understand each other. I’m about to be cut open and they’re all carrying on like it’s a family reunion. Again, the radio is playing. I’m afraid they’re going to miss something. It seems so chaotic and disorganized. I get my wish a moment later when the radio cuts out and the entire room falls silent. Deathly silent. The lead doctor states my name, date of birth, medical record number, and procedure to be done. I have died. I am sure they are reading my obituary. There is a beat of complete silence, then the radio starts up again and everyone resumes chatting.
8:25 AM The doctor next to my head tells me he is going to give me some more medicine in my epidural. When I had the epidural in my old room, I could roll from side to side with minimal help. Once he turns on the drip in here, it is as though my body does not exist below my shoulders. He explains that he is going to touch me in various places and instructs me to tell him when I feel it. 15 seconds go by. 20. 30. I feel nothing. I tell him he can touch me now and he laughs. He tells the other people in the room we are all set to go. The procedure begins and DH is nowhere to be found. I frantically try to get the anesthesiologist’s attention. “Where’s my husband?” I ask. “I need DH. Where is he?” I feel pushing and pulling and see movement below the curtain. I am begging someone to get DH or tell me where he is. Everyone is wearing masks and it is so loud in the room and I am so loopy from drugs and adrenaline that I can’t understand what anyone is saying. One sweet nurse stands over my head and pets my face in an effort to calm me down. She speaks to me and I understand nothing. I am in a pure panic that they are going to take the baby out before DH gets here. I keep asking where he is, when suddenly I hear his voice in the doorway. An OR Technician walks him over while loudly saying “OK Dad, up here! Look right up here! Over here!” and I realize that my insides are definitely on the outside and they don’t want him to look. He sits down next to me and we both start crying. After all this time, our baby is going to be here any minute.
8:30 AM I feel sick. I tell DH I’m going to throw up and a doctor gets me another emesis bag. The room is spinning. I lean over and vomit several times.
8:45 AM DH and I are still both crying, him more than me. I'm mostly just... high. I am shaking so bad from the drugs and the temperature of the room that my teeth are chattering. I continue to weakly spit thick saliva out of my mouth as the waves of nausea send dry heaves through my body. I am dizzy. Something is definitely wrong. I try to tell DH but I am shaking so badly that my jaw is locking up and I struggle to get the words out. I am so incredibly disoriented and my eyes roll back in my head. “DH,” I say, “I’m dying. Something is wrong. I’m dying. I’m pretty sure I’m dying. DH.” I cling to consciousness as best as I can because I really, really want skin time with my baby right after she comes out.
8:59 AM SHE’S OUT! Everyone says she’s here but I don’t see her or hear her. I had asked for the plastic curtain so I could see her come out but they immediately whisk her away. She still isn’t crying. I ask DH why she isn’t crying. He tells me it’s ok, it’s normal. I know it is not. I demand for the doctors to tell me why she isn’t crying. I start sobbing. Why don’t anyone tell me what’s wrong with her?
9:00 AM DH and I agreed that should the baby need him, she was to go with her. That was all well and good when I was still pregnant and lucid, but now that I was cut open on a table I was all, “Oh so you’re just gonna leave me?”
9:02 AM I still haven’t heard the baby cry. Everyone is carrying on as though things are normal. DH is in the far corner of the room with a bunch of people.
9:05 AM DH comes back to me. He is holding our baby. She is awake and looking at me with big grey blue eyes. She is fine. She is silent. Our baby. Our daughter. “That’s my daughter,” I say before losing consciousness completely.
I have no idea what time it is when I wake up, but there are much fewer people in the room. DH is sitting next to me staring at Penny and rocking her gently. I’m still strapped to the table and I still feel wretched. I ask the doctor how much longer it’s going to be and he sighs. SIGHS!!! He explains that Penny had gotten stuck and in doing so, her head had rammed against my bladder. When they catheterized me for the C-section, blood poured out of the line (DH apparently watched this happened and wisely did not tell me until long after). The doctor said it would be another 45 minutes because he needed to do an endoscopy and run a camera up to my bladder to assess the damage. During this time I start to feel slightly human again and coo at Penny. Apparently she HAD cried, I just hadn’t heard. DH said I probably lost consciousness because my blood pressure was 55/28- he was watching it tank as I was telling him I was dying. Penny’s first APGAR score was 4, and she was quite blue. She had aspirated meconium and gone into fetal distress, hence my fever and her heart rate spiking. The nurses suctioned out her airway and got her breathing on her own and her second APGAR was 9. DH never left her side.
Edited to add a few shots of Penny's first day and some more recent pics too https://imgur.com/a/ERkwMWl
Edit #2: Thank you so much for the GOLD (and Silver)! I wanted to give DH (who is a nurse and a god among men, just the absolute best father and husband) a chance to chime in after reading my story: "So everything here is 100% accurate as far as I remember it. A few things lettucehead doesn't remember that I will never forget were 1) the nurse that let lettucehead sleep in the room while she was jammed up on morphine was the sweetest most compassionate person I've ever met. I know a lot of nurses but she embodies what a great nurse does. She was supposed to check lettucehead's cervix at 9am but knew she wasn't gonna be 4cm and might have to send us home. She would come in the room every hour and say "looks like she's sleep, I'll wait another hour to check" she did that from 8 to 1. Lo and behold lettucehead was 4cm when they checked. If she hadn't done and we had to go home again I don't think lettucehead would have been okay and she could tell. It was the biggest favor a stranger has done for me or my family. 2) lettucehead didn't see the blood come from her catheter but I did and holy shit. It was a lot, I had a feeling that Penny did some damage in there. I looked over at Saint Abigail and she looked at me and we both understood that she might have some damage but neither said a thing cause lettucehead was very vulnerable and didn't need to hear she had some internal bleeding. 3) I feel soooo bad that right after Penny was born lettucehead passed out but I remember feeling siting there holding my baby for the first time next to my wife like my world was complete and I was sooooo grateful that the doctors got everyone out safely. My daughter was healthy and I knew lettucehead would be fine. It makes me emotional thinking about it now."

On the recommendation of a friend of mine, I'm posting here for the first time about my adventures with my MIL. I'm just going to do one big post and get it all out there. Details are probably left out/forgotten, it's been a long time and it only just came to a conclusion almost 2 years ago. Haha.
TL;DR: I had an insane, manipulative MIL who thought I stole her baby boy from her, dressed in black for our wedding (of course), almost ran over her older son at said wedding while in sobbing hysterics, and when I got pregnant and she found out, I tried to fix our 'relationship' so she can be involved in our son's life. For some random reason, she hands me tragic news about a suicide in the family (that we don't really know?), spotted with random guilt tactics about the last few years...and I butt text her a 'thumbs up' on facebook when I forget to lock my phone and put it in my back pocket.
So that's the story about why we don't talk anymore.
Also, interesting little tid bit of information my friend found fascinating; Crazy runs in the family. My MIL's mother literally killed herself by convincing herself that she had dementia. She was also crazy manipulative so we didn't bother with her much. Ever. It seems to be a trend in that family. We just don't deal with that family.
So me and DH met almost 15 years ago. Started dating about 10 years ago. Married 4 years ago. When I first started dating him, I severely underestimated the level of crazy his mother ranked on. I was optimistic when I first met her. I dressed proper, minded my Ps and Qs, and really badly wanted to leave a good first impression. I even brought a homemade casserole and cookies. Was going the whole nine yards.
I guess leaving a good impression was impossible. Every interaction was bizarre with her. Before I left, I was sitting at the table with her and a friend of mine whom joined us for the visit, and she crossed her arms, looked at me sternly, and said, "You have a big dark aura within you."
But then she turned to my friend and told her in her past life she was a 500 year old male alchemist so I mean.
I didn't really know how to respond to that, and luckily I was saved by the bell as my parents pulled up into the driveway. I made a hasty retreat with a polite farewell.
Luckily I didn't have to deal with her much after that before she ended up moving out and taking her daughter (Her and my husband's step father were divorced, but she still lived with him till things got bad. I'm convinced he kicked her out). After that, I would go visit the farm house and clean and cook and just generally have a good time taking care of the house and enjoying the much less tensed atmosphere of the house.
She did come back 2 months later, throwing me and DH off completely. It was unexpected, and it promptly lead to a fight, and me packing DH up and making him move in with me at my parent's house. Their relationship was too volatile to coexist under the same roof. She wanted to manipulate him, and he refused to go along with it anymore. It's obviously my fault.
After that, DH is basically abandoned by his family. We don't hear from his mother, his step father, his sister. He's only 19, and no one checks in on him to make sure he's okay. The only person who keeps in contact is his Uncle. And I mean, that's fine. I love his uncle. And, we're managing.
But a few months later, she starts to spread rumours. And, of course, I hear about them because my best friend is marrying DH's brother. And DH's brother is a saint, in his mother's eyes, whom does whatever she wills (He's just a good guy honestly). So she's saying that I broke up the family and stole her precious baby and won't return phone calls and I'm keeping DH away from her.
I don't respond. Its all manipulation, and in the end, I know if I say anything to my friend, it'll find it's way back to DH's mother. So, it is what it is. She's looking for drama. I'm not going to give it to her.
Years pass. Rumours still fly, we still don't respond. DH bumps into his mother at the mall once, and she pulls on the whole "woe is me/how dare you abandon your family" charade. He doesn't buy it, says bye, continues on his way. She's basically dead to him.
In 2014 we're getting married in our home town. Small, informal, the big wedding is in another country, but not everyone can come. So we decide to have the small one at home so people can come. And, well, I'm hopeless and invite his mother and his sister. His step father, along with his new girlfriend, also are invited. Perhaps a bad decision on my part, but I didn't care at the time. I didn't even think she would come.
Cue every classic MIL stereotype; She shows up, dressed completely in black (head to toe. Completely). She completely avoids me and DH, muttering something as she quickly skulks away from us (To this day I'm not sure what she said. Maybe something like, "How could they?". It definitely wasn't pleasant, I know that much.) and chases down his brother and holds onto him (for dear life?). When step father and girlfriend show up, they try to make nice, be polite, and I'm assuming she doesn't return the friendlies because they promptly turn away from her and head towards the ceremony area to mingle with everyone else, leaving her alone in a 'field' clinging to her older son.
Ceremony begins, dad walks me down the 'aisle', brother's best friend officiates the wedding, and aside from it being cold, it's great in my opinion. Except, carried on the wind, you can hear her silent sobs, as she stands at the very very back, away from everyone, hiding under some low branches of a tree, face covered. Uhm. What? I'm not even exaggerating.
Ignore her. End of the ceremony, me and DH walk to the car, and I'm watching her run to her car like she forgot the stove was on at home, hiding her face. Me and DH had some custom wine glasses made for the big wedding, and I had two with me for his sister (whom decided not to bother coming) and his mother, custom tags and all. I push them into my DH's hands and tell him to go say Hi to his mother and give her the gifts.
DH's brother is trying to talk to her. She's already in the car behind the wheel, car is on, she's in hysterics for godknowswhy. He's leaning in through the window, bent at the hip. Like, he's practically in the car so he can talk to her. Second she see's DH approach, she whips that thing into reverse so fast, she almost runs over her older son and speeds off. DH just stands there like, "wtf" and checks on his brother before coming back and tearing the tags off the glasses and handing them back to me. Welp, that's that.
We get married in Florida (we're from Canada), everything goes great, a year passes, and come the end of 2015 I find out I'm pregnant. When I'm 3 months we decide to tell his brother and my friend, and as predicted, she tells MIL. Though I don't know, I guess MIL got mad at my friend because she wanted her to be pregnant, but she doesn't want kids, and I guess the idea of me being the only one to give her grand kids is the worst thing in the world? idek. Either way, she eventually reaches out to us through the alias of SIL (I could tell it was MIL by how she writes. No teen writes like that these days.).
I shrug it off though and extend the olive branch (that wasn't even needed because I never told her once that I hated her). Figure, I'm gonna have a baby, and I'm the only one giving her grandchildren. I honestly wouldn't mind babe having another grandmother in his life, albeit strictly supervised.
Things go well for December. I'm bending over backwards because I sincerely want this to work out. Then in January, everything blows up.
I'm playing D&D with my husband and friends, and we're in a particularly heated battle and I'm the cleric. Things are intense, and in the middle of it, she sends me this long winded letter on facebook. Its starts with a guilt trip about the last 9 years, and then she decides to end it with news about how a distant relative of theirs, a cousin of sorts(?), committed suicide. Its tragic, it's sad. DH kinda shrugs because he's not really connected with anyone in that family, so he didn't know who it was at all. But I want to give her my full attention so I don't blow her off or give a halfhearted response. So, I decide to put my phone away for now, and return to the message later when I'm not distracted. I'm going to give her my full attention because I want to be a good DIL!
I put my phone in my pocket, and forget about it till the next day. (oops)
Next day, I'm visiting BIL&SIL (my friend) with DH. We're all sitting on the couch in their living area, MIL comes up in conversation, and it's to the exact hour that I realize I totally forgot about that super important message!
I open up facebook messenger. I see the message. And oh no.
I guess my phone didn't lock when I put it in my pocket.
Because in response to the family member committing suicide...
I sent her a thumbs up. That stupid facebook thumbs up.
And I didn't just send it to her. No, I couldn't be that lucky. That bright, blue 'thumbs up' had sat there for a full 24 hours. I literally sent that thumbs up when I put my phone in my pocket the night before.
So, naturally, she blocked/removed me on everything probably right after my butt sent that obnoxious emote. I was shocked. I immediately sent a text, explaining what happened, it was an accident, how I wanted to give my full attention so I didn't respond right away, and my condolences for the loss, seriously.
The response I get blows my mind. I used to have the text in my phone till my phone died a year ago, and I think out of everything I lost on my phone, I'm most upset about losing that text, because I can't remember what it all said.
But it was the ramblings of a crazy woman. There was a lot of blame on me, things like, "I guess you can't fix things that don't want to be fixed", "Can't just put the past behind us", "I tried. I honestly tried. But I can't anymore."
And I think the point where I just decided to leave the message unanswered, was when she said something like this;
When you decided to have that baby of yours, I guess that was my son's way of trying to replace his family since he hasn't really had one I guess.
There was more obnoxiously horrible stuff said in that long winded text, and basically in the end, I made up my mind. She doesn't want to be in our lives? Fine. She doesn't want anything to do with 'that baby of mine'? Fine. But I'll go the highroad and leave that door open a crack in case she ever pulls her head out of her ass, but I'm no longer chasing, and no longer encouraging. The only thing I said in regards to the text was to my DH, and I told him, "She thinks you haven't had a family? You've had a family this whole damn time. She just hasn't been a part of it."
Whew. That's about all I have to contribute to this reddit...for now.
I'm pregnant with baby #2. I guess we'll see if anything comes out of the wood works this time once I announce the news to the family.