Most of you are going to find this completely crazy: While living in Los Angeles, I decided to give birth in Texas. Yes, on purpose. I just really wanted my son to be born a Texan. KIDDING! Well, kidding about the Texan part, not about giving birth there.
There’s a lot of reasons that went into this decision. When I was 3 months pregnant, Mario and I moved to LA. We knew hardly anyone. I had a few friends, but no one I was super close with. As things got closer, I realized how often my husband had to travel, especially during the spring when Jace was due. I was scared that Jace would come early, and I’d be stuck in LA all alone, giving birth to my first kid with no husband or family in town. I’m sure my parents would have flown out, but if Jace came early, they wouldn’t get there in time.
Mario and I started looking at the calendar. The week before Jace was due, Mario’s team had a tournament in Montgomery, Alabama, followed by his spring break. My due date fell right during spring break. And Dallas is a lot closer to Montgomery than California is! So we decided it would be better for me to have the baby in Dallas where my family lives. Mario would fly to Dallas after the Montgomery tournament, we’d have a baby, and fly back home after. It would also allow me to be around family those final weeks or pregnancy, and not stuck home alone while my husband traveled.
The problem is you can’y fly after 36 weeks pregnant. Actually, you must have a doctor’s note to even fly that late in pregnancy. Those flight attendants don’t want someone going into labor at 10,000 feet. So I had to “move” to Dallas in early February. Mario was working/traveling, so I went the last four weeks of pregnancy without seeing my husband. Secretly, I think Mario didn’t mind me being away. I’m sure I wasn’t the most pleasant person waddling around, back aching, not being able to see my feet, and feeling like each day lasted 92 hours.
Oh, and then I had to find a doctor to accept me as a new patient at 36 weeks. I ended up finding an amazing doctor who delivered several friends’ babies. That part was actually pretty easy.
There was one other selfish reason I wanted to be in Dallas. My best friend was getting married at 39 weeks. (February 27, but we’re going by my calendar not hers). I was her maid of honor, and there was no way I was missing that wedding! I obviously wasn’t going to be able to fly in just for the wedding, so being in Dallas allowed me to be a part of all the festivities. So I ordered a size 16 bridesmaids dress, paid $150 to have it altered to fit a ginormous easter egg, and walked down the aisle at 39 weeks pregnant. Everyone in the wedding party said a prayer that my water would not break while we were standing at the alter. Did I mention it was a 650 person wedding? It didn’t. Although I did try and dance that baby right out of me at the reception.
Mario’s spring break started the following day. He gets to Dallas, and we wait for the little guy to come. Except Jace has other plans. My due date came and went. At this point we’re getting really nervous, because Mario is supposed to go back to work in a few days. Trust me, we had many arguments on the importance of a tennis match vs. the birth of our kid. We’d cross that road if we came to it. Meanwhile, I tried everything- walking, eggplant, etc. Now two days after my due date, a googled labor cookies. five cookies and five hours later, they worked! I’ll send you the recipe if you’re in need.
We had Jace on March 7th. My husband and my family were all able to be there. Mario was wonderful (despite stealing my oxygen mask to do Star War impersonations. Oh, and then deciding to shower and shave at the house after my water broke. Again, another story for another day.)
Mario went back to work in LA on March 11th. I had to wait a few more days before the dr would let Jace and I fly. At 10 days old, Jace and I flew back to California. Save the mom-shaming for someone else. Yes, I took my baby on a flight at 10 days old, and he was just fine.
So that’s our crazy story. Honestly, it didn’t seem all that crazy. That’s how a lot of baseball wives I knew did it. They went back to their hometown to have the baby, and their husbands just hopped on a plane whenever she went into labor. Obviously this wasn’t ideal. Hopefully when it comes times for the next kiddo, we will have him/her in the same state we reside in.
But if you read this blog enough, you know we don’t really do most things the easy or “normal” way.
Happy Easter everyone!