In the weeks leading up to Blake’s birth, I found myself quoting Happy Gilmore on more than one occasion. I just couldn’t understand why she was so quick to want to exit my womb. The week prior, I had hemorrhaged, and the bleeding was accompanied by consistent contractions — one minute apart — that necessitated the use of interventions in order to stop, or at least delay, preterm labor. Luckily, the contractions slowed (though they never quite went away), and I was sent back home on bed rest.
The following Wednesday, I felt a gush and made my routine trip to the bathroom in order to check for blood. But it wasn’t blood that awaited me; it was liquid. After texting my OBGYN, I was told to return to the hospital, as it was possible that I was experiencing PPROM (preterm premature rupture of membranes). In layman’s terms? My water may have broken. Fab.