I am sorry for the delay in posting part two!  It’s been partially written for several days but I never had the time to write the last couple of paragraphs!  Sorry for the rough writing style, it’s just going up as is!

So, I woke up at 4:20 am.  Another early morning, another round of contractions.  But this time it was different, I could tell!  The contractions started out at 10-15 minutes apart and over the course of about three hours progressed to a steady 6-8 minute pattern.

Andy and I settled in for labor.  I had all kinds of plans for my early labor – a walk, a warm shower, some light snacks, some tv to pass the time.  I had created multiple ipod playlists for relaxation, for distraction, for fun.  I thought that all this seemed reasonable.  However, I can say that absolutely nothing soothed me my entire labor but reclining or lying down and focusing on relaxing my muscles.  I tried to eat a piece of dry toast – it came back up.  I tried to go to the bathroom and wash my face, etc… ended up back in my comfy bedroom chair.  I finally toddled downstairs – hanging onto Andy for dear life – at 8:30 to try to watch an episode of Friends… we couldn’t find it online and I got frantic after about five minutes and headed back upstairs to lie down.  Why?  I’m not sure why I was so immobile.  My contractions were hard, my stomach was sick (I’ll admit it, after that piece of toast, I couldn’t stop throwing up all morning… hey, you wanted the real story, right???), and my mind just wanted to focus on relaxing.

Despite not wanting/being able to do absolutely anything, the morning actually passed quickly and in a giant blur.  I believe it actually was a pretty easy early labor, given how intense it was – at 10:00 am I was lying in bed with Andy, and I was actually dozing off between contractions.  That’s not to say it wasn’t hard – just that I was able to truly rest between contractions and be patient.

Finally, my Mom poked her head in to discuss my progress with Andy.  The doctors had adamantly told us not to go to the hospital until my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, but mine were still steadily 6-8 minutes and had been for about three hours with no change.  Also, I was waiting for that moment that I couldn’t smile and I couldn’t do anything but focus on my contractions, and here I was dozing.  I thought heading to the hospital might be a ways off, but Andy and Mom decided it was best to call the doctor and check in.  The doctor said that having contractions at that interval for so long probably indicated more progress than we thought and suggested heading to the hospital.

Next thing I knew, I was wobbling my way down the stairs, clutching an old towel (I told you, the throwing up thing, it was not cool).  My family met me at the bottom of the stairs, my younger brother and sister almost in tears (I assume of both nervousness and happiness, I’m not really sure…).  My Mom was saying that she’d come along later and I insisted that I wanted, no needed, her now!!!  Thankfully she had no objection!

When we arrived at the hospital, I refused a wheelchair and insisted on schluffing my way up to the maternity floor on my own.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was terrified of appearing to be a wimp!

At the maternity ward check in, the nurses eyed my slightly green face suspiciously and pushed a bucket in my direction while they whispered among themselves that I really seemed a bit too calm to be in very active labor.  Andy got frustrated with their doubt over the reality of my labor while I stood back and just tried to hang in there until I could finally lay down somewhere.  After what seemed like an eternity of questions and papers, a nurse finally waved us down the hall and half heartedly offered me a wheelchair.  Her obvious doubt that I truly needed it made ME doubt that I really needed it, and so I wobbled and weaved toward the triage room on my own while Andy clucked in disapproval.

The triage nurses were a bit too chipper for my state and the exam seemed to take ages and ages… and ages.  They were just as dubious as the others that my labor was too far progressed, and again the round of necessary questions and information seemed to take an absolute eternity.  Andy and Mom stood around anxiously while I tried to block out the world and refused to answer any questions during contractions.  After I was hooked up to the monitors for a while, the nurse finally said, “Well, you are contracting frequently enough that they MIGHT let you stay.”  I just stared up at her, thinking that if this wasn’t active labor then I truly did not want to know what was!

A couple of minutes later, the nurse finally did my internal exam.  Her head snapped up and she said “Dang, girl!  You’re already seven centimeters!”  I felt validated but to be honest, I was just relieved to be taken seriously because it meant I could finally get settled in somewhere!!!  This time, I asked if they could just wheel my bed to the labor and delivery room because I was not going to try walking again!

The nurse said they could give me my epidural now if I wanted it, but I said I didn’t want it – I had always planned to have a natural delivery, and Andy was supportive.  The nurse just said, “All right!” and I was so relieved to find that this was the only time I had to say anything to anyone about this decision.  All through my labor and delivery, the nurses communicated to each other and to any other staff that came into contact with me that I was going natural before they even entered the room so that I did not have any pressure, any confusions, or anyone offering me anything at all.  I felt so supported in the decision and it was a relief to be able to just focus on labor and not have to keep re-making the decision!  My nurses also were able to tell me what to expect with a natural childbirth, rather than lumping me in with epidural deliveries.  It was the best environment I can imagine for having a natural childbirth!

One more part to come!!!

Ida is one month old – two days ago!  And she seemed rather happy about it:

I can’t believe how time has flown.  It’s time to begin that birth story I’ve been promising people!  I’m sorry, but I love rehearsing it in my mind, so it will be pretty detailed.  So here we go with part one:

Ida was due on Monday, August 29.  I left the doctor that day encouraged to hear that I had dilated to 2 cm and was 50% effaced.  The doctor was rather sure that Baby would come soon, partially due to my frequent and intensifying contractions, which were getting strong enough to wake me at night and take my breath away.

I, however, had begun to exist in some kind of surreal state in which everything seemed like a dream and I had started to doubt that I was ever really going to hold a baby.  I was going to be pregnant… forever… and ever.  A severe lack of sleep and appetite didn’t help my delirium, and I schluffed through each day, one at a time.

Thursday, September 1, I woke up at 6:20 with new contractions, painful contractions.  They kicked in at about 8 minutes apart.  Andy and I kept an eye on them for a while and he eventually decided to go into school, prep lesson plans and set up subs for the next couple of days, and then come home by lunchtime.  I called my Mom, who immediately began getting the family ready to drive out, with the assumption that I would be at the hospital by the time they arrived.

Fast forward to about 3 pm, and contractions had ground to a disturbing almost-halt (I was having them about once an hour).  I had to call my family who was halfway to Cincinnati to tell them that I was no longer in real labor, and I had a disappointed husband on my hands who had been convinced that Today Was The Day.  Crushed and consumed by hormones, I ran out of the house in a moment of insane irrationality and drove away.  I made it to the library about five blocks away, where I sobbed my heart out – partially because I was confused and tired and sad, but also because I couldn’t remember the way to the soft service ice cream shop.

After my tear ducts were completely dehydrated and I gave up on the ice cream, I managed to drive home to my panicked husband who was convinced that his pregnant wife had gone nuts.  So, I let Andy take me to dinner at Panera and shopping for some post-maternity clothes.  My family tiptoed into the house that evening careful not to disturb Momzilla, and my Mom assuaged the mood swings with my favorite treat – a pumpkin cream cheese muffin from the orchard at home.  I finally dragged myself to bed, still confused, but much more at peace.

Just a few hours later at 4:20 am, however, I woke up once again with the real contractions.  And this time, I knew for sure that the time had come.

to be continued!  :)

Miss Ida Constance, born September 2, 2011.

Her birth story and photos will come soon.  I decided to take a blogging break while so I could cuddle and nurse and rock without distraction, and I hope you all forgive me.  But while you’re waiting for the birth details, here’s our four week old baby!

She’s just perfect, with her tiny fingers…

…and her tiny toes…

…and a soft, full head of hair…

…and the prettiest eyes any baby ever head, eyes that just want to take in the world.

So sweet, so lovely.

Yes, you read that right.  I am forty weeks today!  And no sign of baby.

Well, there are lots and lots of signs of her.  She wiggles and moves and my lumpy presence on the couch with a squirming belly is hard to miss.  And her little things are everywhere – in my packed bag, her bassinet set up next to our bed, her little nursery.

I think my insane nesting instinct faded with the completion of all baby’s needs as well as getting settled into our house.  But now, I am on a constant round of “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it this very second” because there might not be a tomorrow to do it in.  My number one obsession?  Keeping the kitchen clean.  Boy, that bottle of degreaser comes out way more than necessary.  My sister found me one day with a magic kitchen eraser, scrubbing our ancient stove while panting and puffing and occasionally sagging from a contraction.  She hovered and begged me to stop and reported me to Andy when he came home; but it made me feel better!

Although I won’t lie.  My “Let’s Do It Right Now” complex extends to a sudden round of food cravings, one of which turned out to be a gigantic Graeter’s banana split sundae.  I felt mildly embarrassed to be fulfilling the stereotype of the extremely pregnant woman, shoveling down a gigantic quantity of fudge covered sugar.  Yum.

Besides staying on top of all the chores and vaguely on top of dinner options (I hope the baby comes in the next few days, because the bathrooms are all freshly cleaned and I don’t want to have to do it again before she comes…) my brain has officially checked out.  I’m in a waiting game.  Not because I’m impatient, or frantic, or even particularly nervous – it’s just that I haven’t got much in me anymore and what’s there I am conserving for labor.  So I just sort of chill, enjoying the days passing one to another and quite convinced that she’s going to have a late checkout.  I have no doubt that there will be a Forty One Weeks post.

Goodness, when they talk about energy ups and downs in the last month, they are not kidding.  Well, let’s be realistic.  It’s all an energy down, but I find this uncanny ninth month ability to pretend that I’m not having an energy down and then someone finds me scrubbing the stove down with a magic kitchen eraser and a bottle of degreaser and packs me off to the couch where I sit comatose because, like I said, the energy was actually down.

I know part of it is this giant belly.  Andy says that I’ve reached a point where it doesn’t look like it should be possible.  I don’t think it is possible, and maybe that’s why sleep and a settled stomach are so elusive right now.

The big plus to having such a big belly and having skin stretched so tight that it hurts to be rubbed is that I can see every single movement of the Bumpkin.  And the Bumpkin, she likes to move.  Her aunts say she’s going to be sassy and I say she’s going to be a ballerina because she likes to point those tootsies and jab my ribs.  She’s going to have a good en pointe stance, let me tell you.

I’ve gone into denial that she’s actually leaving my belly and coming into my arms.  Really, after all this time?  I can’t wait, but I think I’m going to miss having her in my belly.  I like feeling every movement, every hiccup.  I like our complete dependence on each other.  I realized that birth isn’t when I meet her, but her first step away from me towards independence, and I just don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.