Why I ever thought that I could avoid constantly talking about something as all-consuming as motherhood is beyond me. I tried hard. I really did. But lately, when I've had a spare second to sit down and write a blog post, I've found that unless the story revolves around slobber and diapers and baby milestones... I have very little to talk about.
The truth is this: From Monday to Friday, my life is all baby, all the time. That's sort of what happens when you work from home and have a 4 month old. Though the weekends give me short breaks where I get to talk to other grown ups and venture out of the house without being weighed down by a 20 pound diaper bag, most of my exposure to the outside world comes in the form of strolling around the neighborhood & watching The Today Show & TLC. {Scary, but true!}
So, naturally, baby talk is going to be inevitable around here for a while. Rather than fighting it, I've decided to go with the flow and turn it into an opportunity to share some of my experiences with those who might be in the same mama boat.
Though I'm not planning on going full-force mommy blog, I'm allowing a little space for something that's taken up a big space in my life with the launch of my Motherhood Monday series! You can expect candor, humor and, of course, pics of my little guy. Because I'm that person now. For those of you who have a life outside of Fisher Price & Baby Einstein... the rest of the week's posts are still for you! :)
Whether you're expecting, are in the midst of child rearing, or are nowhere near having kids, I hope you'll jump in and interact with the posts to come. Because what I've found in my very short time as a mom is that it's a whole lot easier when you've got support!
Now, to quote the fabulous Julie Andrews: "Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start." Four months in isn't a terrible time to share my birth story, is it? ;)
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I have never been a punctual person. It's a characteristic that I'm constantly working on, but I arrived in this world 11 days late and could never quite get caught up with punctuality.
So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up the morning of my due date and had some signs that our baby might actually be on time.
I had been having strong Braxton-Hicks contractions for weeks on end, so I was more than ready to get the process started. We excitedly called our doctor to let him know that we would keep him in the loop if things progressed quickly, but we planned to stay and labor at home as long as possible. Little did I know that "long" was the key word!
I spent Tuesday finishing up odds and ends around the house and baking -- yes, I baked while I was in early labor. When Tuesday night rolled around and things still hadn't progressed, I called it a night early and tried to sleep as much as possible, knowing that the next day could be a busy one.
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| Oh, you know. Just baking & contracting with my giant belly. |
I didn't sleep well at all with contractions coming semi-regularly, but after weeks of sleeping on the couch because I couldn't get comfortable anywhere else, that wasn't anything new.
Wednesday morning came and so did stronger contractions. Steve decided to go in to work for just a few patients in the morning, closing the office early to be home with me in case things got serious quickly. All the while, our bags were {mostly} packed and ready to go just waiting for a signal that we should head to the hospital.
My contractions remained strong and 5-7 minutes apart for most of the morning. Our doctor was having his office hours in West Palm Beach that day, so when we called him to get his advice about whether or not we should be seen, he suggested that we go to the hospital {which is 5 minutes from our house} so that I could be checked and get an estimate of how far into labor I really was.
I was worried about this because I had a feeling that progress would be slow and that hearing "You're not dilated." would send me over the edge. All the while, I had been practicing my
HypnoBirthing, listening to my affirmations and relaxation track and going to my "happy place" when contractions were strong. But curiosity got the best of me {as did impatience} and we decided to take the doc's suggestion and go get checked.
Except, every pregnant woman within a 10 mile radius had decided to give birth all at once. We received a call to tell us that the birthing wing was full -- all 12 suites! I was a little nervous about what that could mean if this wasn't a false alarm. Would I have the baby in a hallway somewhere? Amongst strangers in triage divided by a thin curtain as seen in dramatic labor scenes on TV? This was not good.
Luckily, our doctor spoke with someone and we were told to head over, that they'd find a place and that it wouldn't be a "no room at the inn" situation. Once we arrived, {after waiting for what seemed like an eternity in the waiting area} we were situated in the doctors lounge which had been converted into a makeshift room. They hooked me up to a monitor to check out baby's vitals and observed me for a little while. At this point, my contractions had started to subside {of course!!!}, so I wasn't shocked when the nurse checked me and let me know that I was only about a centimeter dilated. Bummer.
"It could be a while," she said. "Maybe tonight, or maybe not for a few more days." That is NOT what a laboring pregnant gal wants to hear. After a quick ultrasound to ensure that my fluid levels were ok {am I getting an oil change or...?}, they released me to go home for another night of waiting and fun.
Eventually my contractions picked back up again. They were stronger than they had been before but I was determined not to make a return trip to the hospital unless I was really, truly sure that progress was being made. I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for the following morning anyway, so I figured if I could hold on until then, he could tell me how close I was and send me on my way if it was time. That night was ROUGH. Like,
fall asleep for 5 minutes and be awakened by gut-wrenching cramps kind of rough.
Around 3 a.m. when I thought I couldn't take it anymore and was about to freak out a little bit, I had a sudden burst of energy and decided to draw a bubble bath complete with candles, spa music and my HypnoBirthing track. It was probably one of the most magical moments of my labor. I really used every technique I had practiced leading up to these weeks and it was amazing. I felt like I was working with my body instead of against it. I kept visualizing progress. I talked to the baby in my head and urged him to come out. He didn't.
The bath relaxed me enough that when I got out I was able to sleep for about an hour. All the while, my sweet husband was by my side trying so hard to stay awake with me. When I was in the bath, he set up a little blanket bed for himself in the hallway and lay there on standby for me. He was such an integral part of keeping me sane during this very grueling time.
Thursday morning came. My doctor's appointment was scheduled for 10:45 a.m. Waiting in a doctor's office is never fun... but waiting in a doctor's office while you're having contractions? Eek. When he got around to checking me, he happily announced that I was 3 centimeters... which still is considered early labor, not active. I wanted to punch someone in the face. If this isn't labor, then what the :::BLEEEEEEP::: is it?!?
We discussed my options, and it basically came down to one thing: My body was taking its time. He offered to do what is called "sweeping the membrane", a quick procedure that usually moves things along if your body is ready to progress. I didn't want to do any types of interventions, but I didn't know how many more days of slow labor I could take, so I agreed. It wasn't pleasant, but in the grand scheme of things, pain was very relative.
As soon as we left the doctor's office, things really picked up. The contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart. I had a feeling that this was a turning point.
We got back home and decided to go for a walk around the little lake next to our place to see if gravity would help things along. I would take a few steps and then have to pause for contractions... it made for a
very long walk. By the time we got back to our house, Steve was getting a little nervous about the intensity and frequency of the contractions and suggested that maybe it was time for the hospital. Though I didn't want to go for fear of being sent home once again, I was restless and agreed to go.
Again, we arrived at the hospital and took the trip up to Labor & Delivery. I remember that the elevator was broken and the sweet hospital volunteer that was walking with us asked if I thought I could take the stairs. I really would have, but we might not have made it up there for another day or two. Thank goodness we found a working elevator and got to where we were going.
I think Labor & Delivery nurses are pretty awesome people. That being said, they have to take things with a grain of salt as I'm sure they got TONS of false alarms. When we walked in, one of the nurses said, "First baby?" and I said yes. Her next question was, "And what makes you think you're in labor?"
Questions like these should probably be added to a collection called, "Things NOT to ask a person in the middle of contractions." Because when a person is grabbing on to handrails in the middle of a hallway every few minutes, it's probably safe to say that something is going on, whether it's labor or not.
Once I passed her assessment {eye roll}, I was put in another triage room. At least it wasn't the doctor's lounge this time. I was hooked up to monitors again and we were left to wait a while so that contractions could be recorded. Then... the moment of truth. A cervical check.
The nurse checked me and, though I had been told hours before that I was 3 centimeters dilated, she said she thought I was barely at a 3. WHAT. THE. HECK.
You know what happens when you're on the verge of active labor and you go to the hospital? You get to walk laps. If you're at a big hospital, that's probably not a terrible thing. But the birthing wing at our hospital {though quite lovely} felt about as big as a gerbil cage. We walked in circles for over an hour, again, stopping every now and again to catch my breath and brace myself, with strangers and nurses gawking all along. Fun times, really. My favorite part was when a brand-spanking new dad on a baby high looked at me all glowy-like and asked, "How much longer?!"
YOU TELL ME, BUDDY.
{Fun side note: Our paths crossed again nearly 4 months later when our sons were baptized at the same time! What are the odds?}
At this point, I was exhausted. And upset. I started crying in the middle of the hallway because I was convinced that this baby had rolled in Super Glue somewhere along the line and had adhered himself to my insides. He was not going to come out.
The nurse saw me obviously overcome by anxiety and exhausted and stopped for a pep talk. She told me that these things can take a while {duh}, and that I was probably dilating as we spoke {yeah right}, and not to lose hope. She also told me to keep walking and that she'd check me again in a short while. Whatever. I was over it.
When we got back to the little triage area, she returned to check me and I held my breath. I couldn't take more news of no progress. I just couldn't. She peered around my legs and said, "Congratulations -- 4 centimeters! You're in active labor. Let's get you a room."
I cried tears of pure joy. I have never been more excited to be told that more discomfort would be imminent. Maybe he would come out after all.
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| The pic I texted my friend when she asked if I was officially in labor yet. |
... To be continued!
SPOILER ALERT: He eventually came out. :P
