I have read so many of these birth stories and now that it is finally time for me to write my own, I fear that I may get a bit carried away. This is going to be long. Bear with me (or just skip it) if it is a boring read. Here it goes.
While labor did not officially begin on Friday, in retrospect, that is where the story starts. Friday was the day I discovered a new found level of exhaustion. I took 3 solid naps, and managed to accomplish pretty much nothing else the rest of the day. It was kind of ridiculous. And being the type who has a tendency to (sinfully) define my self worth by how much I accomplish in a day, the napping was thoroughly frustrating to me. But, it turned out to be the best thing I could have done on that Friday.
Saturday started off pretty normally. I was having some uncomfortable, but not truly painful cramps when I woke up at about 8am, and I figured this was the beginning of what could be days of false labor, or just general discomfort while my body prepared for delivery.
After breakfast, Mon Amour and I went to run some errands, during which time I noticed that my discomfort was definitely corresponding with the tightening of my stomach, and that the pain/discomfort was definitely coming and going. This was the first time I thought they might be legitimate contractions (previously I had experienced mild discomfort, or a tightening of the stomach separately, and the only time those two things happened together was when I had one long (say 30 minutes long) cramp while stressed due to sitting in traffic for 3 hours). But seeing as they were no where near as painful as I imagined they would get, I opted to ignore them.
Mon Amour and I came home and started working on reupholstering the glider rocker we had gotten at a yard sale. At this point, perhaps I should have taken a hint that labor might be starting, when, every few minutes, I would stop working. And if Mon Amour asked me to do something, I would ask him to give me 1 minute. And true to form, about 1 minute later, I would be totally fine....for at least another couple minutes.
My mental preparation for a natural child birth had mostly been to keep reminding myself that it was going to be far worse than I could imagine (the pessimist way of prepping I suppose, and probably not for everyone) and so with each contraction, I would assess the pain level and conclude it definitely could get worse, so it must not be time to do anything about the pain.
We had some friends over for lunch, which was a wonderful distraction from the contractions (which I wasn't calling contractions at the time). I was definitely uncomfortable, and I suspect (though I don't remember exactly) that there were times during the conversation that my sentences would trail off or become vague as I worked at ignoring another contract. Again, I probably should have taken a hint that things were starting when, for the first time in my life I was holding a baby (our friends' son, my little godson!) and I felt like I really wanted to give him back (I am never one to pass up a chance to hold a baby). It was not his fault of course, but a contraction would hit and all I could focus on was how unpleasant I felt. Similarly, during lunch, for a couple minutes at a stretch, lunch would taste really really really good. Then...contraction...and I couldn't fathom taking a bite, and wondered why I had eaten so much already. But, shortly thereafter I would be eating ravenously again.
After our friends left, I told Mon Amour that the pains were continuing, and could quite possibly be regular, though I doubted it. This is where the legitimate denial started. Mon Amour started timing contractions.
45 seconds on.
3 minutes off
40 seconds on
3.5 minutes off.
50 seconds long
2 minutes off.
And so they continued. I still insisted they were not that painful. Even as I was pausing form doing the dishes to lean over and breath through a contraction, I was describing them as "rather intense, but probably not the real thing". Yeah, the denial was in full force. Fortunately, Mon Amour didn't listen to me. He started packing.
He showered, packed, straightened the house, let the dog out, insisted I call the doctor. All while I paced distractedly around the house cringing through the contractions. During a contraction I would think "yes, Mon Amour is right, its time to go". Then it would stop and denial would return, and I would point out that those 2 contractions had been 4 minutes apart instead of 3, so things must be slowing down.
I did call the doctor like he insisted, but I was in a denial moment when I talked to her, so I spoke really calmly. I told her the contractions had been 3 minutes apart, 45 seconds long for at least 2 hours. Because of my calm tone, my doctor undoubtedly thought I was one of those silly first time moms who was calling at the first sign of braxton hicks. So she told me to come in if I wanted, but not to rush.
Mon Amour decided she was wrong, and told me it was time to go. Reluctantly I agreed.
To be continued...
While labor did not officially begin on Friday, in retrospect, that is where the story starts. Friday was the day I discovered a new found level of exhaustion. I took 3 solid naps, and managed to accomplish pretty much nothing else the rest of the day. It was kind of ridiculous. And being the type who has a tendency to (sinfully) define my self worth by how much I accomplish in a day, the napping was thoroughly frustrating to me. But, it turned out to be the best thing I could have done on that Friday.
Saturday started off pretty normally. I was having some uncomfortable, but not truly painful cramps when I woke up at about 8am, and I figured this was the beginning of what could be days of false labor, or just general discomfort while my body prepared for delivery.
After breakfast, Mon Amour and I went to run some errands, during which time I noticed that my discomfort was definitely corresponding with the tightening of my stomach, and that the pain/discomfort was definitely coming and going. This was the first time I thought they might be legitimate contractions (previously I had experienced mild discomfort, or a tightening of the stomach separately, and the only time those two things happened together was when I had one long (say 30 minutes long) cramp while stressed due to sitting in traffic for 3 hours). But seeing as they were no where near as painful as I imagined they would get, I opted to ignore them.
Mon Amour and I came home and started working on reupholstering the glider rocker we had gotten at a yard sale. At this point, perhaps I should have taken a hint that labor might be starting, when, every few minutes, I would stop working. And if Mon Amour asked me to do something, I would ask him to give me 1 minute. And true to form, about 1 minute later, I would be totally fine....for at least another couple minutes.
My mental preparation for a natural child birth had mostly been to keep reminding myself that it was going to be far worse than I could imagine (the pessimist way of prepping I suppose, and probably not for everyone) and so with each contraction, I would assess the pain level and conclude it definitely could get worse, so it must not be time to do anything about the pain.
We had some friends over for lunch, which was a wonderful distraction from the contractions (which I wasn't calling contractions at the time). I was definitely uncomfortable, and I suspect (though I don't remember exactly) that there were times during the conversation that my sentences would trail off or become vague as I worked at ignoring another contract. Again, I probably should have taken a hint that things were starting when, for the first time in my life I was holding a baby (our friends' son, my little godson!) and I felt like I really wanted to give him back (I am never one to pass up a chance to hold a baby). It was not his fault of course, but a contraction would hit and all I could focus on was how unpleasant I felt. Similarly, during lunch, for a couple minutes at a stretch, lunch would taste really really really good. Then...contraction...and I couldn't fathom taking a bite, and wondered why I had eaten so much already. But, shortly thereafter I would be eating ravenously again.
After our friends left, I told Mon Amour that the pains were continuing, and could quite possibly be regular, though I doubted it. This is where the legitimate denial started. Mon Amour started timing contractions.
45 seconds on.
3 minutes off
40 seconds on
3.5 minutes off.
50 seconds long
2 minutes off.
And so they continued. I still insisted they were not that painful. Even as I was pausing form doing the dishes to lean over and breath through a contraction, I was describing them as "rather intense, but probably not the real thing". Yeah, the denial was in full force. Fortunately, Mon Amour didn't listen to me. He started packing.
He showered, packed, straightened the house, let the dog out, insisted I call the doctor. All while I paced distractedly around the house cringing through the contractions. During a contraction I would think "yes, Mon Amour is right, its time to go". Then it would stop and denial would return, and I would point out that those 2 contractions had been 4 minutes apart instead of 3, so things must be slowing down.
I did call the doctor like he insisted, but I was in a denial moment when I talked to her, so I spoke really calmly. I told her the contractions had been 3 minutes apart, 45 seconds long for at least 2 hours. Because of my calm tone, my doctor undoubtedly thought I was one of those silly first time moms who was calling at the first sign of braxton hicks. So she told me to come in if I wanted, but not to rush.
Mon Amour decided she was wrong, and told me it was time to go. Reluctantly I agreed.
To be continued...
