Working In Wet Pants.

Pregnancy adds a whole knew realm of problems and obstacles when tending bar. I was absolutely determined to get past all obstacles with flying colors. When most women find out they are with child, they immediately quit bar tending and work elsewhere or just stay at home. I was not granted that luxury. Honestly, I was just too stubborn to back down. Quitting was not an option for me because I am money hungry. Also, I like my independence. The worst thing in the world is to rely on someone else to take care of me. It is nice, however, to have that fallback in case things did get to a point where I couldn't work anymore. My boyfriend was very supportive of whatever decision I decided to make. I value myself as a tough chick and nothing will ever keep me from doing what I want to do. With that being said, I was (and did) work until the moment I went in labor.

Just like all pregnant women, I was a little hypersensitive. I was easily stirred up and was not afraid to put people in their place. Most of my regulars have a bit of an entitlement issue, so I was quick to nip that in the bud if I deemed it necessary. I was never afraid to kick anyone out, and I definitely wasn't afraid of conflict. After all, conflict gave me something to write about! For majority of my pregnancy I didn't feel pregnant. I worked hard, never complained, and hid the pregnancy until I was almost eight months pregnant. Fortunately, I am a late bloomer. No one could tell I was pregnant until I hit the third trimester. That is when things started to get interesting.

Like I have mentioned before, pregnancy adds a bunch of problems and obstacles behind the bar. Judgement was a big issue for me. I do live in the middle of the bible belt. A lot of the older customers were not afraid to place judgement on me. I have been called "trashy", "slutty", and have been told that I don't care about my baby, blah, blah, blah. I have also had customers walk out saying that they refuse to be served by a pregnant bartender. At first, it did bother me. I was hurt and would storm home after my shift saying that I couldn't do it anymore. After shaking the bad vibes off, I was still determined to work at my favorite watering hole. Over time I began to ignore the judgmental folks and started to have smart-ass comebacks to get them off of my back. I felt that, if anything, people should respect me for growing a small human in my belly while busting ass behind the bar. I was working on my feet for ten hours straight with no breaks.

Over time I began to get a little more lethargic than usual. The typical weight gain and being "top heavy" started to slow me down a little bit. That wasn't going to stop me, though. Instead, I began to pick up shifts at another bar to help save money for when I go on maternity leave. I would get off of work at 4 am, and was up at 6:30 to take the kiddo to school and take care of business at the home front. I worked on empty fairly often and pushed myself very hard. It was definitely worth it!

Once I hit about nine months pregnant, I developed a master plan with my boyfriend, boss, and co workers. We had a plan for everything: from if I went in labor during a shift to who would cover my shifts for the weeks following that. I am quite fortunate to have amazing coworkers who have been very supportive every step of the way. My regular guests were very supportive as well. They really do treat me like family. The regulars predicted the baby's weight, when and how I would go in to labor, and how long the baby would be. Those old farts were pretty accurate for the most part!

One Saturday night I showed up to work on a mission. I knew that pretty soon I wouldn't be working much longer and that I needed to make as much money as possible. I was bound and determined to be busy and have to work hard. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very busy night. It always seems that the regulars I haven't seen in a while show up on the less busy nights. It is quite convenient because they give me someone to talk to and we can play catch up. One of  my favorites, Don, showed up. We discussed my pregnancy and caught up on each others live's while he sipped on his crown on the rocks. As I was talking to him, I began to feel a small trickle down my leg. I immediately went to the bathroom because I was worried that I was starting to become the pregnant chick who pees on herself. I then resumed my position behind the bar and continued to work. Then, I felt a pretty big gush. Shit. I knew then that my water was breaking. I then quickly ran to the back and called Ben, my boyfriend, to tell him the news. I continued to work while convincing myself that I still had time. Not a single bar patron knew what was going on.

A few minutes later, Ben walks in and sits at my bar. I continue to work, so he just assumes that I had a false alarm. I continued to serve drinks throughout last call, cleaned up behind the bar, and filled out my closing paperwork. My boss shows up to check on me because I sent him a text message informing him that I may need him to close down the bar. Suddenly my pants were soaking wet. I showed Ben my pants and we then raced to the hospital. Just a few hours later, the beautiful Kaydence Avett was born! 

Needless to say, working in wet pants makes for a pretty epic story. My regulars called it! They knew my water would break while I was behind the bar. You've got to love the old and wise.