We’re leaving for Florida tomorrow, so I am reflecting once again. Last year, I was at the hospital the night before our trip to Florida, after 12 hours of contractions five minutes apart. I’m so thankful to be on this side of the story, with a healthy 11-month-old little guy!
But while I still remember, I want to record his story . . .
After week 27, contractions became a standard part of life. They were not painful, just there, and sometimes a bit uncomfortable. But honestly I was staying plenty busy with 16-month-old Mara and settling into our rental house so I didn’t really spend too much time thinking about it.
In the beginning of May our landlord admitted to us that she had not been paying the mortgage payments, and she asked to show the house in order to sell it. Before renting back in December, we had specifically talked to her about not showing the house or putting the house up for sale while we lived there. But now she said she was sorry, but she had no choice–she was about to lose the house, and if she could sell it, maybe we could work out an arrangement in which we could stay . . . All that information was unsettling. We had initially planned to buy a house in the fall or winter, but clearly God had other plans.
The prospect of house showings, house-hunting, packing and moving, while caring for a 16-month-old and having a new baby, all seemed a bit overwhelming. I have to admit I was struggling to trust God.
In the midst of the busy-ness, my sister Mary had offered to fly Mara and me down to Florida to visit for a few days. This would be our “vacation” this year, since once the baby came, there would be no vacation for some time! (Little did we know!!!)
On Wednesday, May 14, the day before our trip, I washed five loads of laundry, walked up and down both flights of stairs countless times, was frenetically cleaning the house for the Friday “house showing,” and packing for Florida. My contractions were now strong and very regular, so I started timing them. For about 4 hours they were five minutes apart. So precise, that I could look down at the clock as the number changed–yep, five minutes. Again. (This had happened with Mara at week 37 or 38. I had contractions five minutes apart for about 15 hours, weeks before she was born. Then the day before she was born, my contractions were 5 minutes apart for over about 12 hours, before progressing to 2-3 minutes apart. That lasted another 12 hours before I entered “active labor.”)
Once again I wasn’t greatly concerned. The last thing I want to do is find someone to watch Mara and drive for an hour and a half to hear the doctor say everything is fine. But since the contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart, I thought I would take a “rest,” so Mara and I took a drive up to Mt. Airy to pick something up from FreeCycle. There were two ironies about that decision: First, the lady from FreeCycle never met up with us. And second, I had never been up to Mt. Airy, but I learned that the cobblestone (and numerous other bumps) all the way up Germantown Avenue were not at all giving me the rest I needed to stop my contractions!
Daniel came home from work around 8:30 that night, and I told him about my day. At that point, Daniel told me he was starting to re-think my trip to Florida. I was in tears. My sister had bought me the non-refundable plane ticket, and this would be the last chance Mara and I would have to fly alone together before the baby came. The last thing I wanted to do was go up to Abington. But after 12 hours of contractions five minutes apart, we decided to call the resident on call. I knew what they would say. What they always say when your contractions are five minutes apart for several hours: Come in to the hospital, and get checked out.
I knew that it was the best thing to do. I couldn’t live with myself if something should happen to the baby. So Daniel stayed with Mara, and I drove up to Abington. I was amazed by how little traffic there was at 10 p.m. and thought going into labor during the middle of the night wouldn’t be all bad! I walked into the hospital and of course, being after hours, there was no one at the information desk to direct me. I had not had a hospital tour yet, so I didn’t really know where I was going.
I found a hospital employee in the hall and asked if she knew the best way to get to the Labor & Delivery 4th floor Triage. She looked at my belly and said, “Is this for you? or for someone else?”
When I said ‘For me, my contractions have been 5 minutes apart for 12 hours, and I’m just 29 weeks pregnant,’ she seemed to panic for me!
“Oh, HONEY!” she exclaimed, gesturing toward the elevator. “Come on, let’s go!”