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Back when I was eight months pregnant, I had one of the most embarrassing moments of my life—my water broke in a classroom filled with 25 high school juniors on just the second day of school. Talk about mortifying! Now, as I gear up to welcome my third child during a pandemic, I can’t help but chuckle at how terrified I was of that moment.
With my first child, I was due on April 8 but ended up giving birth during a blizzard on April 7. In the weeks leading up to the big day, I carried around a teal tote filled with a full-size beach blanket and a change of clothes, just in case. At home, I had packed my hospital bag weeks in advance, filled with everything the Lamaze class suggested: scented lotions, a deck of cards for entertainment, outfits for both the baby and me, a homemade sock tennis ball roller, and even photos of happier times.
When my first labor began, I was in the bathroom and suddenly felt what I thought was just me finishing up. I called out to my partner, “My water just broke!” His response? “Are you sure you’re not just peeing?” I definitely was not.
Fast forward to my second pregnancy, and I felt more prepared, thinking my water would break again. I was convinced my baby would arrive on or just before the due date, so I didn’t bother packing my beach blanket for school that year. On the first day, our staff wore matching t-shirts to help scared freshmen recognize us—2019’s design was a world map, and I started the year as a human globe with my belly proudly displaying Switzerland’s mountains.
A few days before school started, I confided in my OB about my fears of my water breaking in front of a class full of teenagers. “What if I come back from maternity leave and can’t face them?” He reassured me, saying each pregnancy is different and that it’s actually rare for a woman’s water to break before labor starts. He added, “Teenagers might surprise you. They can come together in important moments and act more mature than you think.” I appreciated his optimism, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t spent much time with hormonal high schoolers lately.
On August 22, three weeks before my due date, I had just settled my students and started taking attendance when I leaned over my desk and gasped, “I think my water just broke.” The students stared at me, wide-eyed. “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t burn the building down,” I said before rushing down the hall and flagging down a fellow teacher to watch over my class.
Once in the bathroom, I thought, “This is odd. Maybe I just peed myself.” How was I going to explain that to my students? I returned to class and sheepishly said, “False alarm. Pregnancy is weird.” Two girls exchanged glances and said, “Oh good. We were worried. We were just about to come check on you, but we weren’t sure we’d be allowed in the staff bathrooms.”
Then, I felt another gush. Luckily, it was picture day. “Okay, you’re going to go get your pictures taken now. Head to the lobby. You’ll have a substitute when you get back. I’ll see you in three months.” With that, I walked to the office, announced that I was in labor, and drove my drenched self home (despite many protests), wishing I had packed that beach blanket.
Murphy’s law struck again. If I had brought a giant bag filled with towels, I might have avoided that embarrassing moment. If I’d packed my hospital bag ahead of time, my son might not have arrived early. But I wouldn’t have known how right my doctor was; my students were surprisingly calm. They didn’t panic, and I’m not sure they even fully understood what it meant for my water to break. My pants were wet, but thankfully, I was wearing black, so it wasn’t noticeable. No puddles on the floor like you see in movies.
When I returned to class after maternity leave, the kids were excited to be part of my story. One student who had asked to speak to his guidance counselor at the beginning of class was genuinely bummed he had missed the event.
Human beings, even teenagers, can surprise you. So, if you ever find yourself in the fortunate position of not having to second-guess whether you’re in labor or just experiencing strong Braxton Hicks contractions, don’t fret about your water breaking in public. It’ll turn into a memorable story you share for years to come—a moment that connects you to strangers you may never see again.
And remember, while we often see ourselves as the stars of our own movies, when your water breaks in public, you truly are the star. This time around, I’ll be sure to pack both my emergency water-breaking bag and my hospital bag well in advance.
If you’re looking for more information on pregnancy and home insemination, this post is a must-read: Home Insemination Kit Blog. For those considering at-home insemination, check out Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit, an excellent resource for your journey. For insights into IVF and other treatments, visit NHS’s IVF page.
Summary
This article shares the humorous and relatable experience of a pregnant teacher whose water broke in front of her high school students. It touches on the fears and preparations leading up to childbirth, emphasizing the unexpected maturity of teenagers during important moments. The author reflects on how such experiences can create lasting memories, encouraging others not to worry about similar situations.
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