My "water" broke

Before I begin, let me just say that there's nothing like having a huge fetus head pushing up into the right side of your rib cage. Nothing in the world. I'd like to kill myself at the moment, just to make the pain stop. Or...you know...take some more of that sweet, sweet nectar of Tussionex, just so that I don't realize how much it hurts. Kidding. I'll be too busy counting down the days 'til my c-section, when I'll be blessed with a prescription for a sweet stash of Percocet while recovering a beautiful baby girl.

Okay. Now, as if my day yesterday didn't suck enough (thank you for the comments and e-mails, by the way), my night added a wee bit more stress, although only temporarily.

The scene:
The time is 1:30 a.m. Big fat 16-months-pregnant woman propped up in bed with her 11 pillows, fast asleep. Awoken by a gush of water and the feeling as though I were swimming in a small pond. The internal dialogue went something like this:
Oh God, I peed the bed. I peed the damn bed. How the HELL am I going to get this one past the Hubs? Let me feel. Nope...not pee...at least, it doesn't smell like pee. There's a lot of it, though. What the he... Oh. Oh God. OH MY GOD. My water broke. My water broke. I'm only 32 weeks pregnant and my water broke. NOW what? I should've had a bedtime snack, because boy - I'm hungry. Is it still coming out? Let me feel. Nope. Oh God. What if the baby has dried up like a prune? Or an old, wrinkly leaf? Well wait - sometimes the old wrinkly leaves are damp with mold or dew, and even though they look like they should be dried up, they're not. Wait - my water broke?! Ow! Damn it, fetus, that hurt - don't kick me in the ribs! At least I know you're okay in there, though. Ow! STOP KICKING ME THERE! Wait - why is my back wet? Is that what they mean by back labor? Is she coming out that way? Ew. What the hell? Wait - let me feel. If the cat pissed in the bed and I'm laying it, I'm not going to be happy. I'll kill him. I'll break his neck. I'll.....ohhhhh. The water bottle. It feels flaccid. The water bottle feels flaccid. YAY! The water bottle feels flaccid! Damn piece of crap, what happened, did it explode? It exploded. All over me. And my pillows. And the sheets. Great. Now what? I'm not changing the sheets, and I'm sure as hell not sleeping in wetness. Wait - I know...


Slapping my husband on the arm, I say "hello?" "Hello? I NEED HELP HERE!"
Snork! Snort! Grunt! "Huh?"
"Kenny (explanation to follow) exploded. I need help."

And the scene ends with the two of us schlepping me downstairs to the couch (Hubs' side of the bed isn't comfy, or else I would've stayed there), with my being certain the zombies from I Am Legend that we had finished watching earlier were just waiting for him to go back upstairs so that they could prey upon my fatness. A fun night to end the fun day. It was funny, though. Now. Not then.

As for Kenny. Ohhhh, Kenny, how I enjoyed the little love affair I had with you. Kenny is the hot water bottle who saw me through my pregnancy with baby boy and who was assisting me with this pregnancy, doing his best to soothe away the aches and pains in my back. I used Kenny so much the last time that I have a permanent burn mark on the right side of my back. I like to call it a love wound. But now. Now, my sweet Kenny has left me. Couldn't take the pressure (literally) anymore, I guess, and he exploded from the stress. Poor guy. Now I need to find a replacement. There will never be another Kenny.

Kenny. My love. Wherever you are, and I'm sure you're in a better place now, I just want to thank you for all of our nights together. I'll never forget you.