By the time I came inside after our Girls Night Out, it was quarter till 1. Daniel had just gotten up because (long story) Melissa’s husband Chris had called Daniel trying to get a hold of Melissa.
Of course, Chris’s call scared Daniel to death–he was thinking maybe something had happened–maybe I was having the baby! [gasp]
My poor husband! He will be so relieved when this is over! It is an emotional roller coaster in a lot of ways, when your mind is constantly processing all these possibilities, and has been for three months now.
“Don’t you think it was kind of irresponsible staying out this late?” he asked me. “You need your rest. You’re nine months’ pregnant. You could go into labor anytime and you’ll need your energy.”
But that was really the whole point: to send me into labor to avoid the c-section. . .
Daniel and I both went to bed but not to sleep. When I lay down, my contractions were quite regular–about two minutes apart again.
While we were lying there, I told Daniel. As always he asked if we should go up to triage. I said my contractions are always close together at night, only tonight they got close together about two and a half hours earlier than usual.
“Well, that sounds like ‘something different’ to me,” Daniel observed. “We should probably go up.”
I felt conflicted. On one hand, this week I had started out 3-4 cm dilated. I’d had my membranes stripped on Monday, lost the mucous plug Wednesday, done a lot of walking and been quite active all week–so part of me believed something must have happened by now. Surely I’ve dilated another centimeter or two, right?! But without another appointment scheduled, I knew at some point, I would have to make the decision to go up there. What better day than my due date?
On the other hand, here it is, my due date (now that technically it’s Saturday morning!), and all I have to show for it is the usual nightly contractions 2-3 minutes apart.
They keep telling me there will be “something different.” I will “just know.”
In the end, we decided to go. It definitely helped that my mom is here, staying with us. I wouldn’t have gone if we’d had to call someone in the middle of the night to come stay with our kids. . . Although I’m sure Chris and Melissa were still up at that point, after our Girls Night Out (ha ha!).
I stopped in Mara’s room, where my mom is sleeping to tell her we were going up to triage, but “we’ll probably be back in a few hours,” I told her.
I grabbed my bag, which has been packed since my four-day-hospital-stay in December, and we left.
The trip is always so much quicker late at night. No traffic.
I called the ob on call that night–it was Dr. L, my favorite ob, the one who had done my initial consultation. She said it was a busy night for babies being born, and I was hopeful that my baby would be one of them.
We got up to triage. All the usual. I should give tours.
My contractions had been 2-3 minutes apart at home–once they put me on the monitors, they spaced out: 8-10 minutes apart and hardly strong at all! A physician’s assistant came in to check me and said I was 4 cm dilated.
I really wanted to cry! After everything that had “happened” this week, 4 cm means there was virtually no change from Monday.
“You’re welcome to hang out here for an hour on the monitors, and we can check you again and see if there is any change,” she offered. “Or you can just go home and wait for the contractions to get stronger again.”
I really really wanted to go home. “Let’s just go home, we can sleep in our own bed, we can get some rest,” I said to Daniel. “This is crazy, because this is the time of night that my contractions are usually the strongest, and now they’re almost gone.”
“Well, that’s ‘something different’,” Daniel said, with those magic words again.
“I’ll give you guys a few minutes to think about it,” she said, “And I’ll be back.”
Daniel reminded me that right before Donna’s baby came, her contractions eased up–almost went away entirely–for half an hour, and that was right before the baby came. . . So maybe this was the “calm before the storm!”
The PA had just left the room, and we basically decided we should go home, when all of sudden another contraction came on–by far the strongest, most painful one of the entire pregnancy. Four minutes later, another: strong, painful. In less than 20 minutes, while she was gone, I had such strong contractions, all four minutes apart, that we both decided I should stay for an hour.
“If they stay this strong,” I told Daniel, “I don’t care whether I’m dilating or not! I’ll sit on a sheet in the parking garage until they take me back!”
The PA left me on the monitor for about an hour and a half. It was intense. I was so glad Daniel was there! I can’t imagine going through labor alone, like women used to–or like some women have to today. I gripped his hands through each contractions and he talked me through, reminding me to breathe and encouraging me through each one. When he left to get us more water, I realized how much I was relying on him during each contraction. It was horrible to go through even a couple of contractions without him right there.
When the PA finally returned, she checked me and said I had definitely changed: I was between a 5 and a 6!
They were going to keep me!
They were calling my ob and the anesthesiologist, who would get my epidural started soon.
They were arranging for my delivery “suite.” And asking Daniel to gather up my things . . . between contractions, of course.
This time I wanted to cry tears of joy!
It was real!
My baby was finally on the way! And this would be our last triage trip of the pregnancy!