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There was a time, when I was eight months pregnant, that my water broke in a classroom filled with 25 high school juniors on just the second day of school. Embarrassing, right? Now that I’m expecting my third child and navigating the challenges of a pandemic, I chuckle at how much that moment used to frighten me—but it really did!
My first child was due on April 8 but surprised us by arriving during a blizzard on April 7. In the weeks leading up to that day, I carried a large teal tote filled with a beach blanket and a change of clothes—just in case my water broke while I was at school. I also prepped a hospital bag weeks ahead, following all the advice from my Lamaze class: scented lotion, a deck of cards to keep me entertained, outfits for both the baby and me, a homemade tennis ball roller for massages, and pictures from happier times.
When I was in labor with my first, I was going to the bathroom when I suddenly felt a sensation that made me think I was still peeing, even though I was sure I was done. I called to my husband, “My water just broke!” His response? “Are you sure you’re not just peeing?” Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.
The second time around, I felt more prepared. I was confident my water would break again, but I didn’t expect my son to arrive early, so I left my beach blanket at home. Every year, on the first day of school, the staff dons matching t-shirts to help nervous freshmen identify us; in 2019, I was sporting a design featuring a world map, with my belly resembling Switzerland’s mountains.
A few days before school started, I voiced my concerns about possibly going into labor in front of my students to my OB. “I’m really worried that my water will break in a room full of teens, and I’ll come back from maternity leave unable to face them again.” He reassured me with some scientific facts about how each pregnancy is unique and how, contrary to popular belief, it’s rare for water breaking to be the first sign of labor. He added, “Teenagers might surprise you. People often come together in significant moments. I think they’ll handle it maturely and be thrilled to be part of your experience.”
I love my OB—he has a Mr. Rogers vibe—but I thought to myself that he clearly hasn’t spent time with a group of hormonal teenagers lately, so I brushed off his reassurances.
Then came August 22, just three weeks before my due date. I had just settled my students and began taking attendance when I leaned over my desk and gasped, “I think my water just broke.” The students stared at me, wide-eyed. I quickly said, “I’m going to the bathroom. Please don’t burn the building down.” I rushed down the hall, flagging a colleague to keep an eye on my class.
Once in the bathroom, I hesitated, thinking, “This is odd. I thought my water broke, but maybe I just peed myself. How am I going to explain this to my students?” I returned to class and declared, “False alarm. Pregnancy is weird.” Two girls exchanged glances and said, “Oh good. We were worried. We were about to check on you, but we weren’t sure if we could enter the staff bathrooms.”
Then, I felt another gush.
Fortuitously, it was picture day. I told my students, “Alright, time for your pictures. Head to the lobby. You’ll have a substitute when you return. I’ll see you in three months.” I made my way to the office, announced I was in labor, and drove home, soaking wet despite my protests, wishing I had brought my beach blanket. I hurriedly tried to pack my hospital bag.
Murphy’s law was in full effect. If I had brought my large bag with beach towels, I might have avoided the public spectacle. If I had packed my hospital bag, my son wouldn’t have come early. But then again, I wouldn’t have discovered that my OB was right. My students were calm and didn’t freak out. In fact, I’m not even sure all of them understood what it meant for my water to break. Thankfully, I was wearing black pants, so the wetness was hidden. There were no dramatic puddles on the floor like you see in movies.
When I returned from maternity leave, my students were excited to be part of my story. One boy who had left class to see his guidance counselor was disappointed he missed it.
People, even teenagers, can surprise you.
So if you find yourself in the fortunate position of not having to question whether you’re in labor or simply experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions, don’t stress about your water breaking in public. It’ll become a story you share for years to come, a unique memory that connects you with those around you, even if you never see them again.
And let’s be honest: when your water breaks in public, you’re the star of the show. It’s a wild experience! This time, however, I’ll be sure to pack both my emergency water-breaking bag and my hospital bag well ahead of time.
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Summary
This article recounts a humorous and relatable experience of a pregnant woman whose water broke unexpectedly in front of her high school students. Despite her initial fears of embarrassment, the event turned out to be a bonding experience with her class. The narrative highlights the unpredictability of pregnancy, the support from unexpected sources, and the importance of being prepared. Ultimately, it reassures expectant mothers that public mishaps can lead to memorable stories.