When 35 weeks came and went — Avery day and Owen day — I started feeling impatient. I'd never gone past 35 weeks, so it felt like my due date had passed, even though I still had more than a month to go. (May the Lord help the women who go past their due dates. I cannot imagine.) When I made it to my 36-week appointment, I started having nightmares of a pregnancy lasting 41 weeks and inductions.
When the Tuesday after Labor Day arrived — two days shy of the 37-week mark — Alan was getting ready to head back to work after a four-day weekend. But I woke up with mild cramps and told him to stick around to see what happened. I'd woken up with cramps the previous two mornings to no avail, so I didn't think too much of it. But they were about 15 minutes apart, and when they got just a bit closer we decided to call the doctor and head to the hospital because I didn't want to deliver a baby in the car.
The doctor fails to call me back. Which is awesome. You'd think, "Hey, I may be in labor" would be enough to get a return phone call from your OB/GYN, but alas, I lost more faith in the medical community that day. So Alan and I sat in the hospital lobby for a couple of hours. Just monitoring contractions and playing Words with Friends. I was feeling a little silly about being so paranoid — what if it was just false labor? — but Alan kept reassuring me that I'd never had a false labor before and to chill out because something was clearly going on.
I finally called the doctor's office back, and they had me drive over to get checked. Sure enough, 5 cm and clearly in labor. Hurrah! We were having a baby! So we headed to the hospital to get checked in.
And then we waited. And waited. Watched some Real Housewives of Atlanta because isn't that the most zen thing you can think of? Turned it off when it started being annoying. Made Alan go get lunch for himself so he'd have strength to pull through for me. The attending physician introduced himself. When he came back to check me after laboring for a couple of hours — I told him contractions weren't fun any more — I was at 6 cm. Six! And I was pissed. All of that pain for 1 lousy centimeter? He told me they'd probably break my water in a bit to speed things up.
So after suffering a bit more — like 20 minutes, maybe? I can't remember — I tell Alan I need to push. But that seems impossible because the doctor had JUST CHECKED ME and I was a 6. But I hit the nurse call button and tell her I need to get checked because I need to push and she tells me I'm still a 6. She gets on the phone to my doctor telling her to get her rear there and then she tries to coach me into not pushing for two contractions. Which is maybe the hardest thing I've ever done. I "hee hee hoo hoo" through those two contractions — and I ask if it's too late for an epidural because I'm thinking, "How will I survive the pain of not pushing when pushing is the only thing that's going to help?" And she asks me if there is any music that will help me not push. And I want to punch her in the face. Because, no. No, there is not music that will stop this STRONG PHYSICAL URGE.
And then the attending physician is standing there, along with other nurses. And everyone has this look on their face like "This is the first time I've ever done this." And I want someone to look or act like they know what they're doing. And I want someone to tell me I can push.
And then my body is like "screw you guys, I'm pushing." So I did. And my water broke. And Emery Claire was born one minute later.
I saw immediately that she was a girl — it didn't matter, but I had felt it all along — and Emery was placed on my chest and got to hang out with me rather than being whisked away like my other two had been. We snuggled while they wiped her down and she peed all over me. It was really amazing.
My 6-pound, 4-ounce, 19-inch-long baby girl continued to be amazing. Because she was "near term" they tested her glucose for 24 hours and passed every test. We skipped the NICU. She stayed in my room with me, and we busted out of the hospital two days later. Jaundice wasn't an issue, and she's started gaining weight even though she's so sleepy that I have to wake her every time she needs to eat. (Who is this kid!?)
My kids have all come early and crazily, but I'll give them credit for timing things just right. Alan has always been home for me, and they've been born either on a weekend or the morning after a weekend and caught him before going to work. Plus, we've got a 9/2 baby, 8/7 baby, and a 2/27 which is pretty cool.
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| Dimples have been spotted but you can't see them here. |
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| Eight days old and very worried. |
