5:45AM - arrive at hospital feeling like my insides are about to claw their alien ways out of my ass, while dull tiny butter knives jab into my lower back.

Someone calls my parents to let them know that the baby might be coming early.

6:50AM-ish (after much poking, prodding, measuring and what I might at this time call mild assault) - "Not to worry Jennifer. It's just false labor. Looks like you'll make it to your due date. See you in a couple of weeks"

7:15AM-ish - called my mom and dad (crying) from the hospital's parking lot, letting them know that it's just false labor. They live 5 hours away and my mom's worried that she's going to miss her hair appointment if this baby comes early (no kidding).

Strange as I can still feel the aliens and knives, only now I think a few of my hemorrhoids have twisted themselves together into tiny blue balloon animals.

7:25AM-ish - on my uncomfortable way home (did I mention I live 45 minutes from the hospital?)

8:30AM-ish - 3:20PM-ish - SUFFER. Suffer like no one has ever fucking suffered before! My cats are scared of me and have retreated to the darkest corners of the unused upstairs, as I'm moaning like a monster from "The Descent." and crying about how stupid I am for not remaining a childless, painless, hemorrhoid-less woman. I've transferred myself back and forth from laying folded over the ottoman in the living room to a wooden stool in the guest bathroom shower stall more times than I can count. (Naively hoping that the full-blast shower stream would lesson the STABBING knives that have now converted themselves from bread to newly sharpened steak in my back). I'm actually sitting on the stool with only the backs of my thighs, ass hanging over the edge as I'm now pretty sure the balloon animals have decided to have a free-for-all afternoon orgy. Balancing's easy, as my giant belly offsets the gravity in the back.

Aiden's dad (now known as sperm donor, or "prick") is sleeping on our over-stuffed uber-cozy couch, as he's obviously had a rough night/morning. Poor guy.

He's fucking sleeping.

4:00PM-ish - We have to go back! WE HAVE TO GO BACK! That nurse is a stupid b*tch, and doesn't know what the EFF she's talking about. False-labor my helium blown ass!

4:25PM-ish - We've illegally passed a bunch of Sunday drivers (of course it HAS to be a fucking Sunday) and are almost at the highway.

4:28PM-ish - Aiden's dad is calling his dad, as we're about to run out of gas. We need to switch vehicles. "Meet us at the gas station on the highway". Sweet baby Jesus, someone is going to die at the end of this. I'm pretty sure Ted (our gas station owner that sees us and our crew at least a few times a week) thinks it'll be him. At this point I'm almost understanding how perfectly normal people turn into murderers. I get it.

4:42PM-ish - We're back on the highway. Aiden's dad won't look at me, as he knows I'm trying as hard as I can to shoot skin-splitting lasers out of my eyes and into his fucking stupid fat head. Sure glad he had that nap.

I think a few of those balloon animals have now burst.

5:10PM-ish - We've arrived at the hospital and I'm no longer angry. I can't actually see straight as the pain throughout my entire body is now crippling. I can't stand (nobody told me in the cute prepare-for-baby classes that it's possible that back labor can transfer to your thighs - idiots) and I've thrown caution to the wind and am now not just moaning, but I'm ugly crying and screaming for someone to GET IT OUT!! Labor & Delivery is on the 3rd floor....who THE FUCK thought THAT would be a good idea?? Pretty sure the hospital planners were men. Assholes.

5:18PM-ish - Encounter the SAME nurse that sent me home this morning. She gives me a dirty look and rolls her eyes without actually rolling them. I'm wondering if she was taught that in nursing school. "I'll ask the doctor if he wants me to check you again". Yes, she actually said that in her most sarcastic tone. I'm pretty sure I'm going to die, so I couldn't care less anymore. I'm actually debating on curling up on the floor here at the nursing station and waiting for death to take me.

5:22PM-ish. - Bitch nurse comes back and ushers us to a room, where she has me change into a gown (she's so annoyed that I'm a wimp that she doesn't even leave the room to give my screaming ass privacy) and climb (3 attempts) up on the stupid bed. She "checks" me. 7 centimeters dilated....is that panic I now see in her face? I think it is.

Now she's looking at me with an "oh my God I'm an ass" face. Yes you are, bitch. She's slapping a mask on me and telling me to breathe. She's going to go get the doctor.

Laughing gas. It's not what its name implies. There's no laughing. The best way to describe it is that I can still feel ALL of the pain. From head to toe, I can feel it. I just don't give a shit about it. The pain has now become the bitch nurse. I don't care about you, or anything you do. You're irrelevant.

5:50PM-ish - My water still hasn't broken. We're breathing as we should be and I've been made to flip in every position possible to encourage my water to break. I've now got 3 nurses in with me, as well as the rested asshat who was dumb enough to not check the gas in the car. The nurses are discussing having to burst my water instead of waiting for it. While they're chatting amongst themselves, I feel something enormous smoothly move its way out of me (I'm covered in blankets). Awesome sauce, that wasn't so bad! "Something's happening" I say excitedly. "Somethings happened!" (in my mind it's very possible I've just given birth. Maybe I'm one of the lucky ones!) Haha. I'm so dumb!

My water didn't burst. It managed to remain intact in a weird bubble and exit me that way. THEN it burst. Why can't anything be textbook?! All I keep thinking is "fuck, there's more?!?! I have to do more?!?!" I'm exhausted. Like, totally exhausted. The doctor, who isn't mine (they couldn't get a hold of mine, as he was probably busy setting up camera phones in staff washrooms - as was revealed just this past year) comes in smiling (trained, I'm sure, to set us psycho exhausted moms at ease). "Let's get this done, Jennifer" Yeah, good idea asshat. Cause I haven't been trying to do that for the last 12 hours. YOU get it done. I'm just gonna lay here. Pushing, flipping, crying, apologizing (I don't know why and I couldn't stop myself, but I apologized for EVERYTHING in the last 20 minutes...subconsciously repenting perhaps?)

6:21PM - my 6lb, 13ounce baby boy with SO MUCH (heartburn predicted) black hair and giant (yet tiny) feet was born. The little, stubborn (he gets that from me), early (also from me), perfect (not me), pain-causing boy has arrived.

I won't go into all that followed, as I have to get some work done. Let's just say the hours immediately after consisted of MANY gross things (involving fishhook needles/stitching, pads, snotty crying, mineral oil/Preparation H, more snotty crying, etc. etc.)

I was able to take him home after 4 days of recoup. Everything else with my boy, Aiden Alexander XXX, now 13, has been quite a cake-walk. I take back my earlier wish of remaining a childless, painless, hemorrhoid-less woman. I say and think stupid things sometimes when I think I'm dying.

He's getting his own laptop and printer (grandparents pitched in) tonight as his gift. He's chosen tacos as his meal and white cake with plenty of icing for dessert.

A beautiful day, indeed. I love being a mom. His mom.