Tuesday, January 5, 2016

A Birth Story in Two Parts: Part I

August 4, 2013

I didn't sleep much last night. My stomach was churning and uncomfortable, the baby unusually still. I can still feel that extra dinner I suddenly had the urge to eat last night at 11pm. I tell Eric to take Wyatt to church, I will stay behind. My back hurts a bit, but this is nothing new at this stage.

About 10:30am I start to look at the clock and realize my abdomen has been tightening in a regular pattern. Even though I am almost 41 weeks pregnant, this is nothing knew, I have been having patterned contractions that come and go since about 35 weeks. Frustrated, I tell them to leave me alone unless they really mean business.

I decide I should probably text Eric, just to give him a heads up. “No rush, but I am having contractions. AGAIN.”

“Should I come home?” he replies.

“Not yet,” I say, “Just stand by.” We don't yet know whether we are having a boy or girl. It all seems so unreal.

Eric tells a friend at church who texts me excitedly to ask if I am in labor. “Probably not,” I reply. “I doubt that,” she says, “You're going to have that baby sooner or later!”

An hour and a half goes by with me timing contractions and laying on my side to see if they will dissipate. They don't, and are starting to get stronger, four minutes apart. I'm still in denial because my last labor was long and very strenuous, so this still seems like it should be the beginning.

I finally text Eric to come home home, but I make sure to add, “No rush”, as if I am inconveniencing him by asking him to leave early. My mom gets home before they do and starts talking to me. She notices I am not paying attention, and I tell her I am in labor. Just then, I get another contraction and have to lean over on the wood stove. When it is over we continue talking, as she stands at the sink washing dishes. She asks me a question and when I don't answer she realizes that I am in the hallway on my hands and knees and cannot speak.

By the time Eric and Wyatt get home I am laying in bed, trying to slow things down. I am afraid to walk around and get things really going. I ask what took him so long; he had to put gas in the car, he thought it wasn't urgent.

It seems urgent now. I put on a cute and comfortable black dress.  This seems important.  He calls the midwife who wants to talk to me and asks if I think I need to come to the hospital, which is an hour away. This slightly annoys me, I just want her to tell me to come in or stay home. I say I'm not sure, and she says to come on in then.

Hurriedly, we throw the rest of my hospital things into an overnight bag and I slowly walk out the door and eventually manage to make it into the car, stopping every little bit on the walk there.

My contractions are 4 minutes apart. It is 1:28pm.

To be continued...


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