A baby (boy) story - the Preamble
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This pregnancy, I was very much into birth stories. Like, in a "I-found-a-podcast-called-'Pregtastic'-(seriously)-and-half-of-the-episodes-were-birth-stories-and-I-listened-to-a-ton-of-them-and-loved-them-thank-you-very-much" kind of way. I guess I've always enjoyed a good birth story, but for some reason it was like, extra interesting/entertaining when I was facing the prospect of giving birth to our little baby boy.
And now that I have his story to tell, by Jove, I'm going to tell it. That's right - birth story comin- atcha. If you're one of those people who really doesn't enjoy reading these things, I bid you adieu.
Let me start out by saying: At the end of my pregnancy, I was moderately uncomfortable on a regular basis. Back pain, pelvic pressure, back pain, leg pain, back pain, regular braxton hicks, sweating like something that sweats a lot, peeing like something that pees a lot, OMG BACK PAIN, mild swelling, etc. Please don't get me wrong - I actually really enjoy being pregnant. I love feeling all the little kicks and squirms, the cravings that totally justify getting yourself whatever you want when you want it, the fact that it somehow takes away my headaches and my acne, the nesting urges that somehow give you surges of energy, etc. I'm also really not the type to schedule an induction (let them cook, I say), but I was kinda, a little bit, done with being pregnant.
So I was determined to have this baby AFTER 10 PM on September 5th, but BEFORE 10 AM on September 8th. Reasoning:
And now that I have his story to tell, by Jove, I'm going to tell it. That's right - birth story comin- atcha. If you're one of those people who really doesn't enjoy reading these things, I bid you adieu.
Let me start out by saying: At the end of my pregnancy, I was moderately uncomfortable on a regular basis. Back pain, pelvic pressure, back pain, leg pain, back pain, regular braxton hicks, sweating like something that sweats a lot, peeing like something that pees a lot, OMG BACK PAIN, mild swelling, etc. Please don't get me wrong - I actually really enjoy being pregnant. I love feeling all the little kicks and squirms, the cravings that totally justify getting yourself whatever you want when you want it, the fact that it somehow takes away my headaches and my acne, the nesting urges that somehow give you surges of energy, etc. I'm also really not the type to schedule an induction (let them cook, I say), but I was kinda, a little bit, done with being pregnant.
So I was determined to have this baby AFTER 10 PM on September 5th, but BEFORE 10 AM on September 8th. Reasoning:
- This was early, but not TOO early (my due date was the 10th).
- Any time before the night of the 5th wouldn't really give me time to finish all the shopping/projects/cleaning I just HAD to do before baby came (you know, like hobble around to 4-5 different stores looking for the perfect something to hang as part of the nursery wall collage. Those kind of "necessities.")
- The first ASU football game was on September 5, and since I was pretty sure I'd be missing a game somewhere along the line, I really wanted to go. #GoDevils
- I didn't so much want to risk my baby born on the 11th. I mean, sorry, but hey...if I'm getting to choose.... right? Am I right?
- It was a weekend, and really, that's just more convenient for everyone. It's common courtesy.
And whaddaya know -- in spite of being dilated to a 3 since 37 weeks, and having frequent contractions for at least that long, and every once in a while having some serious pressure that made me SURE that my water was going to break -- we hung in there.
And so it was that when the ASU game ended late on Thursday the 5th, operation "Initiate Labor" began. Since it was pretty late that night, all I could really do was walk up the stairs to the top of the stadium, and make the long walk back to the car instead of insisting on a ride (no small feat).
Friday morning came, and I was feeling good, just having the fairly regular braxton hicks I'd been having for a while. I talked my mom and sister into mall walking with me. We spent the next couple hours walking all over the dang mall, and while I had a few pretty good contractions -- and left with a new shirt to help me celebrate the pending disappearance of my belly -- the biggest thing gained from the trip was sore feet.
So I came home and, determined to keep things going, cleaned like a mad woman. Maddy went to Grandma's and Charly went down for a nap, and I seriously just cleaned like crazy. Dishes, laundry, sweeping, mopping, putting the baby swing together, general picking up and putting away, dusting, cleaning out the fridge, cleaning bathrooms, etc. I will say that the activity that took me from "I really hope this happens" to "I really think this is happening" was mopping. We have this steam mop thing that you push like a vacuum, and I think something about that motion really kicked things into gear.
Dallin came home to a clean house and a determined wife. We ate dinner, and headed to another mall and walked around for another hour or so. Towards the end of that walk, I realized that my contractions were starting to get rather painful, like to the point that I had to stop walking. I started timing them. They were pretty consistent at about 4 minutes. I was determined, though, to hold off on going to the hospital until I was really in pain. And while I was pretty uncomfortable at that point, I wasn't really in serious pain.
We picked Maddy up and got home around 9:30. I sent Dallin to bed knowing that he wouldn't get a full night's rest and he should get all the sleep he could. Maddy had snuck in a nap on our way home and was wide awake, so I hung out with her downstairs and waited for things to get bad. I turned on "So You Think You Can Dance" and laid down on the couch, hoping maybe I'd drift off too and spend at least part of my labor asleep (SPOILER ALERT: that didn't happen).
And it was there, on our couch, around 10:30, a few minutes after my sweet 3-year-old snuggled up to me, that I had my first "whoa" contraction. And dude -- WHOA.
Dallin came home to a clean house and a determined wife. We ate dinner, and headed to another mall and walked around for another hour or so. Towards the end of that walk, I realized that my contractions were starting to get rather painful, like to the point that I had to stop walking. I started timing them. They were pretty consistent at about 4 minutes. I was determined, though, to hold off on going to the hospital until I was really in pain. And while I was pretty uncomfortable at that point, I wasn't really in serious pain.
We picked Maddy up and got home around 9:30. I sent Dallin to bed knowing that he wouldn't get a full night's rest and he should get all the sleep he could. Maddy had snuck in a nap on our way home and was wide awake, so I hung out with her downstairs and waited for things to get bad. I turned on "So You Think You Can Dance" and laid down on the couch, hoping maybe I'd drift off too and spend at least part of my labor asleep (SPOILER ALERT: that didn't happen).
And it was there, on our couch, around 10:30, a few minutes after my sweet 3-year-old snuggled up to me, that I had my first "whoa" contraction. And dude -- WHOA.
