So, let me preface this by saying that if you are anything like me, you absolutely blow off anyone who says, “every pregnancy is different” before you get pregnant. I heard that 1000x, and I was like, “come on. It’s a baby inside your body; how in the world can it be different every single time? You’re crazy, now pour me a drink.” But, as we have discussed before, this pregnancy is different than any other one, so much so that I was surprised I was even having a girl. My first pregnancy, aside from falling down a lot and making my doctor generally paranoid about my ability to walk upright, was perfect. Caelan came 15 days early, but she came with regular contractions and the labor/delivery from Hell *remind me to tell you my Nubaine story sometime*. And I mean regular contractions. On the dot. Every so many minutes. And that was that. It was long, but I did it, and it was textbook as far as What to Expect When You’re in Labor, and the like. Ellery had to be evicted due to a heart condition, so her entire labor was medically controlled, and to be honest, I don’t remember what it felt like in the beginning. I do remember the end because my epidural stopped working, so I wound up with a natural birth but couldn’t feel my legs. Woohoo, right?
I guess that’s why Mother Nature is so smart. We women go through these excruciating experiences of labor, and we completely forget how it felt. We would have to, or else we’d never ever have kids again. Ever.
Anyway, the past few days I have been having some contractions, lots of pelvic pressure, and all of the fun stuff that the End of Pregnancy Days usually brings along with it. This hasn’t been the first time I have felt very end of days. Two and a half weeks ago I went to the hospital with contractions, pressure, etc. And I found out I had a bladder infection. Which, oddly, feels like labor. So there was that. I was sent home with a prescription for 1000mg a day of an antibiotic (holy science!) and a “come back if you can’t talk through contractions” order. Done. I was 2 cm dilated, as I had been the week before at my midwife appointment. I was assured I would start progressing and that my body knows what it is doing, so to trust the process. Great. I like trust. I’m in.
The next week, I waddle my happy self into the midwife office for my 38 week appointment. I hadn’t had a lot of bad contractions throughout the week, but had declared myself completely over this pregnancy bit, and I was waiting to hear some good news. Well. I was still 2 cm dilated. Okie doke then. The antibiotics were working, I was feeling better, and life was smooth sailing. I wasn’t the most thrilled that the midwife, as she sailed into Third Base, declared that I was still 2cm dilated, and “thick”, but to come back the next week because assuredly at that point, I would have made progress. Trust the process. I’m in.
Last week, I was experiencing some contractions, discomfort, and I was like, “yes. This baby knows what she is doing. She is moving and grooving and coming down to be born soon. Yes!” And? No. 39 week appointment.. Third base. And 2 cm. Very little effacing. And…disappointment. Oh? And along with the disappointment? A raging yeast infection thanks to the SuperMan of All Antibiotics I had to take for seven days. Seriously. At that point, I declared this pregnancy shit for the birds, and I waited. Trust the process? Are you insane?
Back to the last few days. I have been having very strong contractions, lots of pressure, nausea, etc. Contractions were fast, then slowed a bit, then fast, then strong, then ZOMG let’s do this! So, last night at 9, I called my midwife and we went to the hospital with my mom and dad, ready to bring Finola Marleigh to the Breathing World. My in-laws had planned to stay the night because my sister and her wife *who will be watching the girls when I finally do this shit* are out of town for Pride Weekend (lucky girls). They come home today, so the plan is back to normal. So, I go to the hospital and get all checked in. Contractions are coming, we’re laughing about how ridiculous the experience has been so far, and the resident comes in. Third base. And.. you guessed it … 2 cm. Really!? I cannot explain to you how quickly my heart sank into my feet. I almost cried. I had been having these contractions and making this happen and nothing was happening. This cannot be. I assumed she had really small fingers. I was on the monitor for about an hour, having strong contractions, and really thinking that something would change. Boy, you could have knocked me over with a feather when she came in and said I was still 2 cm and had made no progress. At. All. I was ready to cry again, and the resident assured me that something would be happening soon. I am “days away from my water breaking” and “the contractions will either stop or speed up” (thank you, Dr. Magic 8 Ball, I feel like you paid too much to become a doctor and tell me the same thing a 99 cent ball can tell me, by the way). The midwife seemed to feel bad for me, and she really made me feel like what I am dealing with is common. So, I came home. And here I sit. Not contracting. Looking at purses online, writing this, and listening to my girls play Guess Who? with their daddy.
Tomorrow, I am 40 weeks. I have a midwife appt in the morning. I wasn’t planning on actually making that one, but it looks highly likely that I will. I am not going to go back into the hospital until I physically cannot stand or walk. I know it will be super close to being too late, but frankly, I can’t imagine how many bills I am racking up with my insurance company from all of this nonsense, and I can’t do it anymore. My body has no fucking clue what it is doing, which is annoying, and I just have to wait until it is damn near too late to make actually going back to the hospital make sense. I was told if I go back by 10 tonight, it will count as the same visit insurance-wise, but I don’t anticipate that actually happening. My poor husband is so ready to meet his little girl, and frankly, I am so ready to stop feeling insane.
So, when someone tells you that every pregnancy is different, trust them. I have never been this pregnant for this long, and I had no designs that I would still be pregnant at this point. We haven’t had this anticipation of baby coming, and I have never had this weird start/stop of labor before. It’s hard to believe it is my third time doing this, and I feel like an absolutely brainless moron who doesn’t know how this goes. But I guess I don’t know how this goes. The midwife assured me my body knows what it is doing, but I don’t know if I believe that. I will wait. And if the contractions never get that bad (as sometimes they just don’t on their own), then I will have to talk about medical intervention. But I am waiting until the last possible moment to even think about that. I am just going to believe that Finola Marleigh knows her birthday, she just hasn’t officially invited us to the party, and that I will know when it is truly time to make this happen.
She had better be cute. That’s all I am saying…