Triton Jaune's birth story begins 10 days before his actual birth day.
No, I wasn't actually in labor for 10 days.
Yes, I am now one of those people who went to the birth center, convinced that it was the 'real thing' and got sent home.
It's my third labor! You'd think I would know what I was looking for. But here's how it went.
For a while even before our false alarm trip to the birth center, I'd been having Braxton Hicks. Lots of them. I never had any significant Braxton Hicks with the girls, so this new for me. Between that and the fact that Hibou came so early, I started thinking (perhaps even assuming) that Triton would come early. I was even anxious he’d come too early. If he’s arrived before 37 weeks, we wouldn’t be able to deliver at the Birth Center like we hoped.
But, despite the ongoing Braxton Hicks (that didn't hurt a ton, but were uncomfortable enough to wake me up multiple times a night), we made it safely past the 37 week mark.
July 4th we had company over, and when I had to excuse myself to lie on the sofa because the contractions were getting intense, I was having flashbacks to Papillon's birth day, when I was similarly distracted from our company. Perhaps today would be the day! But no. I went to bed and by morning, they were gone.
Saturday, July 5th we decided to keep ourselves busy in order to prevent just sitting around waiting for baby. We went to the science center, played around the harbor, enjoyed some Starbucks, and explored the Wegmans (which is like a field trip in and of itself). By the end of that fun day, the contractions were back. They were not too intense, but definitely unignorable and timeable. They were 5-7 minutes apart and had been for some time.
Take a shower, drink some water, and lay down to see what happens, the midwife said.
I did that.
Still 5-7 minutes apart about an hour later.
Midwife said I could wait it out, or come in.
Since we live an hour from the birth center and my labors have a history of going from zero to sixty in no time flat, we opted to go in.
It seems that what taking a hot shower, drinking cold water and putting my feet up failed to do, walking into the Birth Center did with ease. As soon as we arrived, contractions eased up and spaced out. We went out to dinner, paced around a shopping center and came back for another check before deciding it was not going to happen that day.
At this point, I was really grateful that I was at the Birth Center. At a hospital, I'm pretty sure they would have rolled their eyes at me and turned me away without a second thought. The midwives took my false alarm seriously; if I thought I was really in labor, they were going to believe me unless it was proven otherwise. I truly appreciated their support and the way they didn't just assume that I was over reacting.
But, at the end of the day, it was a false alarm. We went back to my parents’ for the night. The next day, feeling exceptionally stupid for now being "one of those people" who had a false labor alarm, I was determined to walk the baby out! Mon Amour and I went for an epic walk! I hadn't exercised much at all during this pregnancy (note to self: next time, exercise! Even if it's the coldest, snowiest winter in 100 years…which it nearly was), and by this point, walking 3 or 4 blocks was pretty tiring. But we walked a solid 2 miles at a decent clip. Our efforts were for naught. It was going to be 10 more days before Triton arrived.