The first indication I would soon meet my child came on December 5th. My mom had arrived on Wednesday the 3rd, and we had enjoyed a few days out and about together. On Friday, we were doing much the same and stopped into Chipotle, one of my favorite medium-speed food establishments, for lunch. I had to pee, as I usually did with a 39-week gestational baby pressing on my bladder. Without divulging too much, I found I was losing my mucus plug. I told my mom and crossed my fingers and toes that something would happen sooner rather than later, knowing in the back of my mind that losing your mucus plug can mean something or absolutely nothing. Ultimately, I really did not want to go to work on Monday, which was the plan barring baby. But the entire weekend came and went without fanfare. My hubs called my MIL Sunday evening to see what her opinion was on working Monday (she's a midwife), and she said to go about business as usual. That was seriously disheartening, so much so that I resigned myself to believing it would be weeks before this kid would come.
Monday morning my mom got ready for work with me. She drove me in and then spent the day in Newport while I bounced on my birth ball, listened to my co-workers continue to predict my birth scenario, and felt sorry for myself. When I left for the day, all the women I work with insisted on hugging me, just in case, and it's a good thing they did!
That evening, my mom and I made pancakes and bacon for dinner. We sat down to eat about 6pm, and that's when the contractions began. They were five minutes apart from the get-go, and I was so resigned to the 18th as my babe's birth date that I was in complete denial. My mom and hubs insisted on timing my contractions but I kept not telling them when they were happening or how long they were lasting, until they both were pretty upset with me, and then I felt compelled to tell them. So we hung around watching Miranda (check it out on Hulu; it's hilarious) and timing my contractions. My mom thought we should head to the hospital right away, but I had done enough reading about jumping the gun that I suggested going to bed instead. That was about 10pm.
At 1 am, I woke up because I was having a contraction that needed me to get on my hands and knees. They weren't particularly painful, but I found that certain positions were terribly uncomfortable and others were much better. I labored alone for a while and intended on letting my husband and mom sleep longer but I inadvertently woke my husband by leaning on the bed and rocking. He sat up with me and we discussed baby names through contractions for a bit over an hour. By this point, the contractions were pretty regularly a minute long and a minute apart, so my husband called his mom who was planning on being at the birth to catch the baby. She lives a couple of hours away, and there was an ice storm that night, so we wanted to make sure she took her time and arrived safely. She said she thought we should call the hospital, actually, so we did. They said we should come in! To waste a little more time, I took a shower, which felt phenomenal! I woke my mom, had some leftover bacon, and at 4:30 am, we went to the hospital.
I'll take a pause here and be back for more later!
Rest of the story please!!
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