Adults have Accidents, too
By Candi Petersma
Completely dressed and ready to leave the hospital for the third false alarm, I reached over my large, baby belly to pull on my shoes. I could not believe it! I felt a huge rush of warm water flowing down my legs, and there was only one liquid I knew that came out that way. How old am I? Did I just wet my pants? Why can’t I stop going?
I immediately called for Jeremy, my husband, because if I wet my pants, I was going to need some clothes to wear home. Thinking I was overreacting about something, he seemed to take his time, while working up his patience to deal with his irrational, pregnant wife. Standing there for what seemed like an eternity waiting on him to rescue me from my baby bladder, it still did not dawn on me that this was the real thing.
He finally walked in the restroom carrying my purse and all my stuff, annoyed because we were going home yet again due to false labor. Any other time, I would have found it funny to watch him with all of my belongings but not today. As he looked me up and down, he was astounded by my obviously weak bladder, which was soon followed by… “you are not getting in my truck like that.”
Frustrated beyond belief, I thought, thanks Captain Obvious. Then miserable pregnant momma chimed in: “Jeremy, stop staring and get me a nurse or some new clothes-Don’t just stare at me like I did this intentionally!” I wanted to cry out of embarrassment.
When the nurse came in, she of course asked me if I wet my pants and seemed to be slightly putout because her shift was almost over. I responded like a five-year-old who had an accident, “I don’t think so?” She then takes out a magic piece of paper that was supposed to turn colors when it touched the pool I was standing in. My pants turned cold as I waited. How humiliating was this? I was glued to my pee-pee-puddle, for fear if I moved, I would get it everywhere. The last thing I wanted was a trail of “that” following me home. The industrial-sized shower standing next to me looked appealing.
The nurse then told me to do something I thought was nuts; she asked me to smell the liquid. What! Was this woman out of her mind? I am not sticking my hand in pee! It was bad enough that it was all over my clothes; now I had to stick my fingers in it. NO WAY!
So I timidly stuck the tip of my finger in the now large pool below my feet. Flashbacks flooded my head about dropping things in the potty only to have to fish them out, so I painfully brought it to my nose expecting that distinct smell. Was this supposed to be dramatic, because I did not smell anything? The wicked witch of the pee-pee gods (the nurse) informed me that I needed to do the whole process again, because evidently, I did not have enough urine on my finger.
A little put out this time, I made sure that I soaked my fingers and drug them annoyingly to my nose once more. This time, with a little sarcasm, I proceeded to dramatize as I inhaled deeply in the hopes that I would not miss the undeniable smell of a men’s urinal. But to my surprise, I smelled something more like bleach.
Befuddled? Well, more like dumbfounded! The nurse showed me the magic strip of paper, which turned a funny shade. Looking at the paper as if it were Greek to me, she said something that would change my life forever: “Get undressed honey, that was your water breaking, and you are officially in labor.” Women all over the world do this; it can’t be that bad….I prayed.
This time, Jeremy almost wet his pants with excitement, ignoring my pleas of not being ready yet, and let’s not forget about the fear of the unknown. Well guess what, that choice was no longer in my hands. I gave birth after 9 long hours and 45 minutes of pushing to an 8lb 7oz girl. And, yes, she was as difficult as you see in the movies.
MacKenzie Rae Petersma made a dramatic entrance into the world. She surprised us that day and is carrying on the tradition daily with a little brother to help her. We are so blessed!
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