Happy Wordless Wednesday!

“Can you walk to your room?” the nurse asked me. “It’s just right across the hall.”

Umm, sure. Between contractions.

I don’t like to think of myself as wimpy. But during labor, I can’t do anything. I feel wimpy.

With the help of Daniel and a nurse, I began the walk. I made it to the room–right across the hall. But the room wasn’t “quite” ready yet.

We stood outside the door. “Just give us a few minutes,” the housekeeping staff was saying.

Yeah, I can’t do that, I was thinking. Then: Why is there suddenly a guy on housekeeping staff when I’m standing in front of him having contractions? I’ve always had women housekeeping staff until now, I thought.

Thankfully, the housekeeper then offered a room a few doors down. Somehow I knew I’d be walking farther than “just right across the hall.”

I had to stop right there. I leaned against the wall, gripping the railing and moaning through the next contraction.

During contractions, I can’t talk, think, sign paperwork, lift my head to look at the medical personnel talking to me as they lead me down the hall . . . and of course, I always get drugs before I ever approach the “pushing” stage. . . who knows what I would be like if I had to experience the whole thing “naturally”!!

So feel free–if you’ve done it naturally, call me a wimp. I know it’s true. I just find myself so very thankful for epidurals by 6 centimeters or so. So very willing to be drugged, despite the many valiant thoughts I might have had, prior to the onset of labor.

We made it to “my” room. All I knew is that the contractions were getting stronger, longer, harder.

Where is that anesthesiologist?? The epidural could not come soon enough!

I got up on the bed and suddenly there was paperwork to sign. And the anesthesiologist came in and started preparing the epidural. “This shouldn’t be too bad,” he said. “You’re skinny.”

I was amused. Skinny? I’m nine months pregnant! That’s a great line! I thought.

“I’m sure women always love to hear that one when they’re nine months pregnant,” I said.

He was definitely more proficient than the anesthesiologist I had for Micah’s c-section. I’m not really sure what the differences are between an epidural and the c-section numbing drugs, but this time went a lot more smoothly. Although I had to lie on my back with Micah, rather than sitting up, because they were worried about the baby’s position. So maybe that makes it harder.

The epidural took effect on the right side first. And it took quite awhile to take effect on the left. Throughout the rest of my labor, I could hardly feel any pain at all on the right side. It was so weird to feel the contractions so strongly on one side and not the other–but to know that it was just as strong on both sides–I just couldn’t feel the pain.

When they finally got it figured out . . . Wow! What a relief!

It is an amazing, miraculous drug! To me, the best part about the epidural is feeling much more coherent, cognizant, able to listen to others and communicate intelligently. My contractions were so close together, so long and so intense that the “breaks” were very small. It was almost impossible to converse with the ob or nurses or anyone else because the contractions just kept coming. I can hardly remember any conversations with Daniel or the medical personnel that occurred prior to the epidural. After the epidural my memory is fairly good.

I needed two doses of antibiotics before the baby was delivered to counteract my Group B strep virus (which was positive). These antibiotics were administered at a certain interval through IV. I was receiving the first dose, and the second was due at 10 AM. So the nurse told us that the goal would be to hold off delivery until 10 AM.

My calculations of “1 cm an hour” during active labor had me delivering before 10 AM–but as slowly as I have dilated throughout this pregnancy, who’s to say what might happen?

So the idea was to get some rest now that I had the epidural. I hadn’t slept at all during the night, so I really was exhausted. Daniel had been by my side all night–he was ready to rest too.

I turned my head toward the window. It’s hard to capture in words the beauty that I saw. At home, we look out our windows to see roofs of rowhomes and tiny patios and “front-yard-less,” car-lined streets. But when I looked out the window from my vantagepoint (lying in a delivery room bed) I saw a gorgeous blue sky tinted with the rainbow colors of a sunrise. I couldn’t see the ground, but from my perspective, the treetops made it seem like a forest was right outside my window. It was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.

The day Micah was born was stormy. As they wheeled my bed across the “bridge” between two buildings and into the operating room, I saw lightning and heard thunder outside.

This experience was completely opposite. Somehow, after several intensely painful hours of contractions, the sunrise was incredibly calming and even symbolic: It’s the dawning of a new day!

Off bedrest.

Finished with pregnancy (at last).

Welcoming our precious little girl into our family.

A new “normal” for our family of five!

The nurses said it was warm and beautiful outside today.

And I was thrilled that I would remember the sunrise on the warm, beautiful day our little girl entered this world!

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!

. . . are those who are willing to do whatEVER it takes to send you into labor!

My friend Melissa called me last week to remind me of the kids’ consignment sale coming up the weekend of March 5-6. According to the doctor’s office, March 6 was my “due date.”

And you know if you plan something for your due date, you will certainly go into labor, and your plans will fall through. On the flip side, if you don’t plan, you’ll be sitting at home on your due date, wishing you had planned something, so you could stop sitting at home thinking about hospitals and labor and giving birth!

Melissa and Kristy were planning to go to the consignment sale Friday night from 7-9 p.m., then go to Starbucks just to chat. They invited me to join them. Melissa was listing all the “pros”:

• Getting out to the consignment sales will be much easier now, than finding someone to watch 3 kids (or even leaving a newborn nursing baby with my husband for several hours).
• This is important especially since Mara’s needing summer clothes, and with our trip to Florida the first week of May, summer is right around the corner!
• “Girl time” is all too rare, when we all have 2-3 children in the toddler-and-under stages.
• And of course, the best reason of all: All this activity could send me into labor! Finally!

Honestly, she didn’t have to work very hard to convince me. When you’re on the verge of imbibing castor oil, the option of going to consignment sales and Starbucks with your girlfriends is just a no-brainer.

So we went. Melissa was our driver/navigator, having Google-mapped the route to the sale, with directions then leading from the consignment sale location to our hospital.

YES!

She was prepared!

Daniel told me not to hesitate to go to the hospital if I had the least indication that I might need to go.–He promised to hop in the car and come up to meet me for the birth–or drive me back home again, whichever I needed.

I loved the consignment sale! If I’m remembering correctly, I haven’t been to one since before (or maybe right after) Micah was born.

There was not enough time to see everything there at the consignment sale.

I found summer outfits for Mara, pink Hello Kitty slippers (which are going to be a huge hit! She’s been asking me for pink slippers and a robe!), 6 board books for Micah, a really nice 18-24 month Gap outfit for Micah, little containers to keep Micah’s matchbox cars and other small toys in, a set of five adorable newborn brown/pink/green Carters onesies for Little Boo. . .  It was so much fun. I actually ran out of money (I hate cash-only sales!) and had to borrow from Kristy! (Yikes, Kristy, I had the $$ for you when you came over–please remind me next time I see you!!!!!)

As I’m looking at newborn clothes, I met a lady who looked about as pregnant as me. So I asked her when she was due. She said the end of April and asked when I’m due. When I said “tomorrow,” she looked all worried, as if she expected to see the baby drop out crying the next moment, as if she was wondering about her role in the delivery, and gasped, “Are you serious?!”

Melissa bought an adorable newborn-sized “Little Sister” onesie with matching pants for Little Boo. I can’t wait to put it on her!

I unrolled another newborn-size onesie and held it out, imagining my baby was wearing it. “Look at this!!!” I exclaimed. “I can’t wait to hold her!!”

All of a sudden, it hit me: Little Boo really will be here any day now. There were months of contractions, when we didn’t know for sure. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week–or in a couple months. But now? Her due date is tomorrow. And the doctors won’t let me go even another week.

I was so excited, just thinking about it.

When the sale closed, Melissa was ready to drive me up to the hospital, but unfortunately, my contractions were there–but not strong enough to merit a trip to triage.

So we went to Starbucks.

If you can’t go into labor, at least go to Starbucks. Ha ha! It was as good a second option as I could have asked for, I suppose.

After less than half an hour, Starbucks also closed, and we had to leave. We sat in the car and talked. At nine months pregnant, I’m not too comfortable sitting in cars, and before long my contractions were two minutes apart. Some more intense than others, but still nothing warranting a hospital visit.

Finally we started home. We dropped Kristy off, and then Melissa and I sat double-parked in front of our house and chatted more.

My contractions slowed a bit, so I figured tonight wasn’t the night after all. But we had a good time together, and I knew it would be awhile before we got the chance to do that again!

Thanks, friends!!!

When my husband went to get his haircut over the weekend, he shared with his barber my history (delivering at 32 weeks), my past three months (contracting, bedrest, meds), and present situation (almost 40 weeks pregnant and 35-45 minutes away from the hospital).

My husband’s barber is a firefighter here in Our City. Firefighters see all sorts of things. They live made-for-tv lives, you know? So his barber told him about the time he answered an emergency call: He opened the front door to see a woman at the top of the stairs with a baby already emerging, head and shoulders hanging down . . .

His recommendation to my husband?

Get a hotel room next door to the hospital and wait there until the baby comes!

Thanks, man. As if my husband wasn’t already worried enough about it!

So anyway, we are in the middle of week 40 . . . but before I say too much . . .

Another disclaimer:
My brother (apparently an occasional reader) reminded me that although I may have included a “warning label” a couple months back regarding my blog’s pregnancy-detail content, a lot of people may be reading individual posts, oblivious to my disclaimer. So once again, if you’re a guy–or if you’re grossed out by discussions of pregnancy stuff, like I used to be, skip right over this post. I try to present things tactfully in the way that I might have a conversation with a medical professional, but I remember being sooo disturbed when women mentioned how many centimeters dilated they were when they were admitted to the hospital. Months of contractions (and all that goes along with preterm labor and having a preemie) has cured me!

So if anyone is still left reading . . .

During week 40 I had another doctor’s appointment on Monday. Like usual, I had contractions most of Sunday night. Like usual I lay there several hours asking myself whether or not we should be going up to triage. But I kept thinking ‘my appointment is only a few hours away–I can make it till 9 o’clock!’ And I did.

Daniel came to my appointment with me, because I expected them to schedule the c-section and at this point I am getting kind of emotional about the whole situation: I’ve had contractions for over 3 months. Been on bedrest for two months. Tons of meds. Here I am, just dilated 3 cm–still contracting all the time–in week 40, and unless I naturally go into labor in the next few days–they said they can’t induce me–I’m facing the prospect of a repeat c-section (which would remove the possibility of ever delivering vaginally again). So THAT combined with hormones, the lack of sleep, and the other nine-months-pregnant feelings, left me emotional every time I thought about the c-section. So I thought Daniel could think about it clearly and respond to the doctors like a reasonable adult. 🙂

I saw Dr. M, which was a bigger blessing than I knew. My pelvic exam was painful–quite painful (for the first time since my pre-marriage pelvic exam), and I thought ‘wow, he was a lot rougher than the other doctors.’ Immediately my contractions returned. He told me that I was still between 3-4 cm dilated. But he was going to send me up to triage, and tell them I was a ‘4’ and contracting . . . I had my hesitations. I really have no desire to spend any more time there in triage until, you know, you can “see the baby’s head and shoulders hanging down there” (ha ha!). But Daniel was very supportive of the doctor’s recommendation. So we left the doctor’s office and drove to the hospital.

Once there, of course, my contractions stopped. In fact, I think I had just one contraction the entire hour we were there. That is sooo untypical! but–it figures.

The physician’s assistant in triage told me that it seems that Dr. M had stripped my membranes. I was a little surprised to hear that, because he hadn’t mentioned it–I thought they would at least tell you before they did that–and I didn’t think they would do that for me since they had said they couldn’t induce. But that totally explained why it was painful, and why I began having contractions again immediately afterwards and felt really really crampy the rest of the day.

Dr. C was on duty at the hospital.

“Of course, you’re having contractions!” he ranted. “Dr. M gives me contractions!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know what he’s thinking [stripping the membranes]!–We can’t induce you because you had a previous c-section. And we can’t break your water because you’re Group B strep positive. So we just have to wait for you to go into active labor.”

I was encouraged, however. Dr. C said he didn’t see a need to schedule another doctor’s appointment. “Because I think you’ll go into labor sometime this week,” he said. “If you don’t, call the office next Monday.” Of course, you always hope you’ll deliver by the end of the week you’re due. . . but you just never know. Either way, I was encouraged: No c-section scheduled. Not even a doctor’s appointment for week 41. And the doctor is predicting it is just days now, instead of weeks, before I give birth!

Monday and Tuesday were yucky, crampy, spotty days after whatever Dr. M did. But nothing “different.” Nothing that told me ‘I need to drive up to triage now.’ Wednesday I lost the mucous plug. With Micah that happened the day I delivered, so I was hopeful . . . but still nothing “different.” Every night the whole week I had the usual 1 – 3:30 AM strong contractions, with regular contractions throughout the rest of the day, but nothing unusual–it was all so very typical of the past three months.

Thursday was the day I had calculated on the Mayo Clinic website as my due date.  My mom and I took the kids for a walk to the park.

Thursday came and went. . .

Friday: Another long walk with the kids–to Park with Benches. I e-mailed and IMed several friends about castor oil. I started Googling inducing labor to see if there was anything else we could try at home.

Wow, I know it sounds crazy. But you get tunnel vision those last few weeks of pregnancy, and I began to go crazy with thoughts like ‘I will always be pregnant!’ ‘I’m not ever going to go into labor!’ ‘If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now!’ All of which I know are illogical thoughts when I actually stop and think. But in the moment, it seems so very believable.

These thoughts were countered by my husband’s constant question: “Are you feeling anything ‘different’?” and his thought: “It’s more likely today than it ever was.” [which seemed absolutely insane to me after three months of contractions and no baby].

I can’t imagine being a week overdue . . . or two weeks!

Wow!