It's about 5:00 am (I think), I'm at 7 cm. The midwife is here, ready and waiting. J is getting excited again. I am still waiting for the ctx to stop so I can go to sleep and have this baby... maybe Monday, or something. I remember doing a lot of squatting and a lot of sitting on the toilet. I was in and out of the pool, afraid to stay in for very long, since the ctx spaced out dramatically in the water-- even at SEVEN CENTIMETERS. Can you see why I was still thinking I'd be pregnant for another few days at least?
Since I'm titling these posts "Convoluted Emotional Implications", let's talk about my emotions at this point. I had stopped crying, but I was still caught in this web of not wanting to "do this". As I got to the point of beginning to push, I remember crying out "No, no, I can't DO this, make it stop, I don't WANT to" with each ctx. I know. I admit it. I'm such a baby. In between ctx I felt bad about it, if that makes it any better. I remember turning to the midwife and saying "I'm really not usually this high maintenance." (Which is totally not true. Ask anyone in my family.) As the ctx (finally!) got closer together and began to last two or more minutes, and I was pushing with almost every ctx, I started to get more and more frantic. I felt caught, stuck, trapped.
And here's where that quote from the old hymn comes in:
Trust and Obey For there's no other way
J and the midwife each said something to me that marked the turning point in this whole experience. First, J got up in my face, during one really bad ctx when I was nearly out of my head with resisting and fighting it, and said "Listen to me, you've got to stop this. Stop saying you can't do this. I don't say want you to say that any more. You can do this, you've done it twice before, and you have to do it. There's no other way."
Obey.
It hit a nerve somehow. I quit saying "I can't". Instead I looked at the midwife and said "I don't know what to DO. I can't figure out how to DO this." And she said "You don't have to DO anything. Stop thinking so hard about it. Turn your brain off and let your body do its job. It's doing fine. I understand why, after all these weeks of your body messing with your mind, you'd have a hard time trusting. But this baby is coming NOW and you've got to trust that your body can do this."
Trust.
And right then, I swear, that's the first time I actually realized that I was having a baby. Right now. Any second. I turned my brain off (actually, I'm pretty sure that was Divine Intervention). And that's when it started to get Awesome.
So, it's now 9:00. J is sleeping in the living room on the couch so his snoring (wait, what? J? snoring? did I just say that out loud??) won't keep me from being able to sleep. But then, lo and behold, the ctx start up again!
Let me pause for a minute and say positively that regardless of the fact that it wasn't until this point that I actually began to dilate consistently, these were absolutely the exact same ctx that I'd been having since early Friday morning. Same intensity, same length, same spacing. And up until I was pushing, they never got any closer than five minutes apart or longer than a minute. So, whatever you skeptics want to call "real labor", I say phooey. Labor started early Friday morning, regardless of when dilation kicked in.
So I lay in bed for a few hours, trying to sleep between ctx. I finally gave up and woke J at around 2:00am (I think). We talked and contracted and prayed and wondered when this would all just stop so we could get some rest, since we "obviously" weren't in "real" labor yet. We actually got to the point of talking about the possibility of going to the hospital, since at this point I hadn't slept in 48 hours and was beyond exhausted. I don't know exactly what we were thinking we'd DO at the hospital, but we felt like we'd reached the end of our ability to cope. I started crying again. This time just because I was tired and miserable.
At this low point, God brought to mind somethng from Judah's birth. Sometime during that day of labor, the midwife checked me and mentioned that my cervix was still "rigid." She took about six EPO capsules, popped them and applied the oil to my cervix. It softened up and began to dilate much more quickly-- I think I went from 4cm to 7cm in about an hour, and then from 7cm to pushing him out in another hour.
So that's what we did. By now, J thought I was about 5 cm, which would have been good news, but I refused to believe him. He was greatly encouraged and called the midwife. He asked her to come alone and only call her assistants when she felt birth was imminent. That was such a relief to me, not to have so many people crammed into the room-- especially people I didn't know.
When the midwife arrived, she checked me again (so much for me not wanting to have any cervical checks :P ) and now I was 7cm (gotta love that EPO-- keep it in mind, ladies). But I didn't believe her either! I had by this point completely convinced myself that I was NOT in labor.
And the next part of the story will explain the quote I posted at the beginning of this saga.
When we first moved here (I'm going waaay back to the beginning) our intention was to rent very short-term and try to be in a house by the time Jamie was born. As we began our search, we quickly realized that it would take an act of God to get things moving that fast. We began to resign ourselves to cramming three kids into this tiny apartment. Or at least, J did. Right up till the last minute I was still holding out hope that we'd somehow make it in time.
Most of you know that a few short weeks before we moved, our friends suddenly and unexpectedly lost their baby girl to an unknown virus. Also, my sister had just had a baby and sent her husband back to Iraq for the final months of his deployment. Picking up stakes and moving away when all of them were in such pain and sorrow was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I felt as though I had abandoned some of the people closest to me in a time when they needed me the most. I think it's an "oldest child" issue...
J and I lived in Virginia for over 20 years. It was home. Moving here-- leaving the only home our kids and our marriage had ever known-- was very hard. It wasn't a move we "chose". We left out of financial necessity. We came here specifically because we felt it was where the Lord was leading us and we've continued to feel that it was the right choice to make, but it was/is still a hard one.
So the last months of my pregnancy were fraught with emotions-- above and beyond the normal pregnancy hormone emotions. To say the least. During the day on Friday, as I progressed through the early stages of what turned out to finally be "real labor", it all came crashing down on me. For about two hours, right before the midwife came, I cried with each ctx. And cried. And cried. I think that's what made J decide to call them.
I cried because I couldn't go outside and walk around in my own yard. I cried because Judah and Sofi had no one that they knew to come and care for them (although people from church offered, Judah was still so shy and fearful at that point that we decided to keep them with us). I cried because my mom couldn't be there. I cried, remembering Gwen's tiny little perfect body that looked just like she had the last time I held her, only she wasn't there anymore... I cried thinking about not being able to sit and nurse Jamie while Susi nursed Gracie and we joked about who's baby was fatter. I cried when the midwife came in and set up the stuff because I didn't want to have my baby here, in this strange place, with all these strangers around (one of the assistants I had never even met), in this cramped place where we couldn't even walk from one side of the room to the other without crawling over equipment and furniture.
As I look back on those afternoon hours, I think I really just talked myself out of having that baby right then. I wanted so badly NOT to do it that way, that I simply didn't.
So then, at 8:00, everything just stopped. The midwife checked me-- 2 cm. Everyone packed up and left and J went to lie down to try to get some sleep.
And then He gave me a blog so I can tell y'all all about it.
Today, in preparation for our evening prayer time (which we JUST started attending) with several families from J's school, I spent the entire Florida still-summer-even-though-it's-October afternoon slaving away in a hot kitchen in order to impress our new community with my hot buttered dinner rolls.
When I went into the kitchen moments ago to remove the luscious dough from the bread machine where it's been rising, I discovered that I had inadvertently pushed the wrong button on the programmer-thingy and my bread machine had COOKED MY DOUGH. And not just like, baked it into a loaf, but rather cooked an entire batch of THREE DOZEN dinner rolls on the QUICK BREAD SETTING.
*sigh*
I've spent the last 20 minutes banging my fist into various surfaces around the apartment and trying to turn time back or figure out a way to get to Publix, buy more yeast and re-construct four hours of work in the next 50 min before we leave. J wisely took over and is headed to Publix to buy some of those tacky dinner-rolls-in-a-can instead. My Southern Soul rises up in rebellion within me.
Let this be a lesson to all of you who attempt to impress new friends with your baking skillz!!
Trust and Obey, For there's no other way To be happy in Jesus, But to Trust and Obey
The succinct version first, for those of you that aren't into the whole emotional/spiritual side of birth and just want to know the basic facts: On Friday, Sept 24th I "woke up" after a loooong night of ctx to find that they didn't simply fade away as I began to move around the house as they usually did. Throughout the morning the ctx stayed a pretty steady 15 or 20 min apart, lasting about 30 sec. By early afternoon they were 5min and lasting 60-90 sec. As they began to get more intense (by, say 2:00), J got a little anxious and called the midwife to come with the pool. they all came over, set up and settled in. The ctx stayed intense and 3-5/60-90 all afternoon and evening. However, at 8:00, as J began to put the kids to bed, the ctx inexplicably stopped. And I mean completely stopped. They went from every 3-5 minutes to NOTHING just like that *snaps* It was a low point, let me tell you. We did a cervical check-- only two cm. TWO CM!! The whole crew packed up and left. J and I went to bed. Of course, as soon as I tried to lie down and rest, the ctx started up again. In about two hours they were back at 3-5/60-90. We called the midwife back at about 4 or 5 o'clock, at which point I was in transition, and Jamie was born at 6:58 am.
Now. On to the long version. The part where I dissect my mental and spiritual state and discuss all the convoluted emotional implications of the whole experience. Please feel free to move on if you're bored-- I won't be at all offended. Also, a warning. This is not a peaceandlightcandlesburningtriumphanthippymama story. That was Judah's birth, but not Jamie's, poor thing. But it's an affirmation to me of the choice of his name and a reminder of the quote Laura sent me:
Peace: It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.
And the Peace that the Lord sends (that would be Jamie) is inexplicable, unexpected and totally unrelated to the circumstances in which one finds oneself.
I'm still workin' on the Birth Story. In the meantime enjoy this video of Jamie during his "settling into bed" time. It takes about an hour of winding down after the older kids go to bed to get him settled, but then he sleeps till 7 with a few "dream-feeds". I am SO not complaining :)
I just love watching him stare into J's face. *blissful sigh*
2) Up all night with intense ctx AGAIN. Finally fell asleep around 6-ish.
3) Woke up at 7 with lingering ctx.
4) J decided to stay home for the morning so I could get some sleep. This translates into even more hounding for poor him from well-meaning people at work wondering when in the WORLD this child is actually going to make an appearance. If he doesn't come today, I mean. *crosses fingers*
5) Despite all that last night, ctx are irregular, at best, now-- although every couple times they are wicked intense.
6) Just a reminder, when I first starting "taking bets" about Jamie's birthday, I predicted the 25th :) We'll see if I was right!
Still pregnant, still contracting, still determined.
I spoke to my midwife the other day, just to touch base mid-week and let her know how things were going. In the course of the conversation, she reminded me that waiting till the timing is right and letting things run their full course is so much better than forcing labor to start before the baby and my body are ready. This I know. I know it intellectually, but right now I'm sick and tired of all this. This y'all know. :) I haven't been shy about telling it like it is. I told her on the phone, if anyone gave me half an excuse, I'd sign up on the dotted line for an induction RIGHT NOW. Even knowing all the statistics about the inevitable cascade of interventions and the likely-hood of a c-section (given my history). In the exhaustion and impatience of three days past my (ultrasound) due-date, I'd give up everything I know just to have it be OVER right now. She chuckled and then I sighed and admitted that was only half true, I really was committed to what I think is the Right Way and her job, and J's job, is to keep me from doing anything stupid while I"m half crazy with hormones and impatience. And then she said something that's been stuck in my head since then,
"You see, don't you? why so many women are talked into interventions they don't need by equally impatient medical professionals?"
Yes, yes I do.
People often respond to the fact that I'm having a home birth by saying things like "You're so brave," or "I would never have the never to do something like that." But the truth is, I have home births because I'm afraid to entrust myself to the medical mainstream. As a pregnant woman, I do not feel that they have my best interests at heart. I do not think the average ob/gyn is committed to helping me be and do my best-- to stick to what I want for my birth and my baby. Instead, I feel that they are there, hovering, waiting for me to reach the end of myself so they can swoop in with all their knowledge and equipment to "save the day". That's not what I want.
I don't want to be "saved" by impatient, well-meaning professionals who's main goal is to get a live baby out of my body as quickly and hassle-free as possible. I want to be encouraged, inspired, challenged to do my utmost. I want to be supported, uplifted, helped and inspired to endure to the end. I want to get through to the other side-- MYSELF-- and look back and know that by the Grace of God and with the help of my husband and women who were committed to Jamie's and my Best, I stayed the course. I accomplished something awesome, even though it was freakin' HARD.
In addition, I want, in the quietness of my home, and under the protection of my husband and knowledgeable women, to have the beautiful privilege of participating in the act of creation. To reach the end of myself and have, not a glove and a gown, but Almighty God, step in and extend His strength beyond my own. I want to be surrounded by peace and respect for the miracle of new life, as I reach forward and life my son into my arms.
In the end, the truth is, I home birth because I'm afraid of my own weaknesses. I am not a super-strong, militant, determined woman. Truth be told, I'm kind of a wimp. But a wimp with convictions about what's best for my baby. So I surround myself, during birth, with people who are passionate and strong and wise and who I know will help me make the right choices-- not the easy ones.
Because, seriously, if I could get my hands on a vial of pitocin right now.... Well, I could hardly be held responsible for my own actions at this point, right??
Thank you also for a husband who works tirelessly and dedicatedly at his job so that we have enough money that I can occasionally splurge on new maternity clothes even though I'm about to drop this baby any day now.
Thank you for Ebay and the comforting thought that at least I can make back some of what I splurged since the clothes will be practically brand new (please God!).
The last few days have been rough-- I'm not going to lie. Contractions have ranged from simply annoying to flat-out painful. Yesterday when I went to pick J up from work, I could barely walk around from the driver's side to the passenger side. I've gotten a couple nights of good sleep in the last week, but the rest of the time I wake up sometime in the wee hours and labor for a couple hours, falling back into exhausted sleep around 5 or 6, only to wake up again at 6:30 to the day's normal activities.
I've not been posting much (duh) mostly because I'm getting tired of talking about it. I've said before, it's a mind game. For example; last night J and I were both thinking he might not go into work this morning. Things were intense. He even called the midwife to let her know that things might just come to head any time. Around 8 I just went to bed, so I could try and relax a little. But at 8:30, the ctx just freakin' QUIT. Just like that *snaps fingers*. They were gone and I got this burst of energy and tidied up the house, helped him get the kids in bed and washed the dishes. It was like I had dreamed the whole thing up till then. Or like it happened to someone else. I'm getting tired of wondering if it's all in my head, if I'm making it up, if people are beginning to suspect me of being a chronic hypochondriac. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really pregnant, or maybe I dreamed that up too! (that feeling doesn't usually last too long, though, considering the size of me)
I was pretty bummed last night and then the Lord put this verse in my head:
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make straight your paths.
It was a bracing reminder that my own understanding (as confident in it as I tend to be in this particular area) is ohso limited when confronted with the plans of God. I have no idea what He's doing with my body right now, but it's completely outside of my control. And if I try to take control, I will only mess it up. I have to give it up and simply be a vessel, for as much longer as the Lord sees fit to require that of me.
But with the admonition of that Scripture, the Lord also sent comfort-- He does remember our frame is but dust :)
1) Quiet time with J before work-- we woke up early on purpose and it was worth it.
2) Children slept in an extra half hour.
3) The postman bringed me a package!!!! Oh the pretties!! Most of them are nursing things for after Jamie is born, but there were a few maternity tops in there, too :) And some white linen shorts. Yum!
4) As the looming pile of filing on my desk slid to the floor, the ultrasound pics from Jamie's 22nd week were uncovered-- reminding me that in the end, it will all be worth it. And I'll forget these hard days in an instant when I hold that tiny wet body and look into his eyes for the first time. Bliss!
And thank you, thank you, God for creating the colors coral, hot pink and lime green!
......that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.
I went to bed last night at 11 and got up this morning at NINE! Praise the Lord! No contractions, very little heartburn, just a couple of trips to the bathroom.
*sigh*
It was lovely. I woke up feeling like I could lick fifty tigers today :) Or at the very least, survive the last three weeks of this pregnancy. I even made pancakes for breakfast. And still no contractions! Yay! Let's see if I can clean the house and get ready for Sabbath without waking the sleeping beast.
On the flip side, Sofi caught J's cold-- coughing so hard last night she actually threw up! And Judah seems to be fighting it off, too. So we may or may not make it to church tomorrow.
On the house-hunting front: We've narrowed the list down to ourtopfourpicks and are working on scheduling a second trip to each house. I hope to get that worked in by the end of next week. I'm trying to jam a lot into the next two weeks-- baby coming and all...
In particular, I REALLY want to buy a rocking chair! I've been haunting Craigslist for MONTHS now and several really nice ones came and went while the stupid truck was in the stupid shop for so stupid long. You can tell I'm not really dealing with THAT whole thing very rationally yet. Anyway, now that the truck is back on the road, people seem to have decided not to sell any more glider/rockers. I'm not sure I can actually give birth without a rocker in the house. I can't believe I had to leave mine behind...
The midwife's home visit was this week. Jamie is finally settling down into a good position and seems to be hanging out in OA more than OP these days. HOOORAY! But I'm skeptical (after two other op labors) that it will last. He is Low Down, though, and my pubic bone is suffering mightily. I look like an old lady, the way I walk around these days...
Since I'm feeling so great today, I want to start planning and nesting and all that :) So I have a couple questions for you other mommies...
1) Older children present at the birth of their siblings-- yes or no? I was at the birth of my last three siblings, remember it vividly and should probably credit it with giving me the confident perspective on birth I've had ever since I can remember. I'm not really concerned about things from Sofi's point of view-- she'd love it and be fine. I'm more wondering how I'd handle having her there. Would it be a distraction? Would I be able to focus on what I was doing and not feel that tug to my Mommy-Self? Know what I mean? Any of you with opinions, air them! :)
2) Labor play list! This is one of my favorite "getting ready for labor" things to do. Anyone have any favs to suggest? I like a pretty wide range of music-- although I'd draw the line at heavy metal...
Today in the pool we were discussing Jesus' dead body, which was brought back to life and then went to heaven for a new body (Judah thinks this whole new body thing is the best thing EVER). We spoke of God and Jesus, established that they were both boys ("cool, mom") and then went on to talk about how God is a King and will come back to earth one day to establish a New Kingdom.
"Andandand, I will be a KNIGHT in da Kingdom"
(of course, since there's a King and a Kingdom, there has to be knights, right? Of course right!)
"Um, sure, Judah, you will be a knight for God"
"What do knights DO in da Kingdom?? Do dey FIGHT??"
(doh!)
"Umm, I don't think so... What do YOU think they do?"
"Ummm, I sink dey...sit around and kiss nice geeeuls.. and den dey will pray to Jesus and pray to God aaaaaaand.... den dey bring nice ladies to da King!"
*pause for deep thought*
"And DEN dey go andandand kill da dolphins. 'Cause dey're baaaad dolphins"
What a wonderful morning we had! We went back to Downey Park, which was a blast last time, but this time we went with FRIENDS! Friends of all the right ages!! Plenty for Sofi and Judah both to enjoy. It was so refreshing to spend time talking to other moms and playing with their babies and sharing stories and tips. I really do feel like things are settling in at last. Good thing, too, if last night's and this morning's ctx are any indication... :P
I am a little concerned about Judah still, though. Have any of y'all moved with a child around Judah's age before? He seems to have become very shy and withdrawn in crowds these days. My memories of him from Va are of a happy-go-lucky child, content to pal around with whoever is nearby, not afraid of strangers and rarely moody. But today, for example, he spent a large part of the time on the very outskirts of the group, quietly picking up fistfuls of sand and watching them dissolve in the current. He swam, too, but wouldn't talk or interact with any of the other kids.
Towards the end, I got him interested in helping me and Martha (2) build sandcastles and that seemed to cheer him up a lot. He talked to her a little and they energetically stomped the castles down together. He seemed to enjoy her company-- she doesn't talk much and seems a quiet, gentle little one.
Perhaps it was just her quiet spirit, or perhaps some Middle Child Deep called to Middle Child Deep, but when we were leaving he leaned his head over on my shoulder and said, "Mom, there's lots of people. Too many people-- I don't know them."
"Yes, but we're getting to know them, they will be our new friends."
It's such a cycle, life... isn't it? I mean, you fail and fall, you wallow a bit, then you remember the God you serve, you get a note from a friend, you get some sleep (or some protein) and you get back up and keep going. Somehow the strength is renewed every morning. Actually, not so much "somehow". It's the Lord. He promised He would and He is so faithful to renew His strength in me.
Not that circumstances have changed since last night, it's just my attitude that changed. Today I find myself able to remember all the good things in my life, instead of just the challenging things. And to see the good even in the challenging things. For example, the tiny, sharp feet kicking me violently in the hip-bone right now. There are two ways to think about that, right? Right now I'm able to smile indulgently and reminisce about the curse of the Huge Howell Feet. I mean, if the mother wears a size ten, you gotta expect some major kickage, right? Oh and by the way, can you believe my swelling's bad enough that I'm actually wearing a size ELEVEN right now???
Still, I have to get myself together a little better and try to avoid the kind of crash I had yesterday. I need to be more careful about getting enough rest, food, water and not trying to pack too many activities into one day. We almost crashed and burned again today, but after Judah's third meltdown in Costco, I decided to just go home. Best decision I made all day.
And I need to make sure, also, that I get some time first thing in the morning to spend with the Lord and my day planner. Both of those are vital. I've made that my goal for this week-- quiet time every morning. We'll see how that works out.
We all have bad days, right? Of course right. But it seems especially unfair, spectacularly unfair, when that bad day falls on a Sabbath. It started with a long, sleepless night and just went downhill from there.
Judah had a meltdown at church resulting in J having to spend the entire service in the back of the church calming him down. This is the happy child we're talking about here. Judah is not the moody type. He rarely actually Cries. Whining we deal with-- it's a family besetting sin (well, not J, just the rest of us), but the crying? that's not like him. He wailed heartbreakingly when dropped off and after about five minutes, J just went in and got him.
I just know it's the move and the unsettled-ness getting to him. He was never like this at church back home. He spent the rest of the day being super clingy and wanting to sit on me, talking about our old house and his friends and asking for Violet to come see him. We got on Skype with the Other Forsheys and chatted for a while and he was so precious ooing and aaaahing over Grace-- whom he ADORED from the moment he first saw her, just a few moments after she was born. He told me that God told him He was going to give Violet "lotsalotsalotsa money to buy a aaaaeeerplane, so she can come see me in Flooooda"
And then all the trickiness I've been trying to balance with neighbor kids came to a bit of a head and I had to call Sofi in from playing Chicken (!!!!) in the pool with the neighbor boys (!!!) , riding on the shoulders of a neighborhood dad (!!!). And somehow I had to find a way to explain that Ladies don't play chicken in the pool with boys while riding on the shoulders of men we don't know. *sigh* Never an easy conversation to have with your 8 yo. And yes, we'd given her permission to play in the pool with the gang of kids and adults out there. It's right off our front porch after all, and one of the dads we know vaguely had offered to be responsible for her. Apparently our version of "responsible" and his version were... not the same.
We were supposed to have dinner with some new friends, but by 4:00 in the afternoon, after the conversation with Sofi, and a parental conference over Judah's anxiety issues, and a failed attempt at a nap (for me), and the gradually increasing stranglehold of a headcold (J), and Jamie's constant bone-crushing roller-coaster imitation (me) had all worked their magic, we decided that it might be just a bit much. So we didn't go. And not-going made us both feel a little lonely and a little more aware of just how soon (pleaseLordpleasemakeitsoonAmen) we'd being entering that fatigue-crazed labyrinth of new-baby-ness without the safety net of a settled church family.
And someone sang Be Thou My Vision at the offertory this morning and it was beautiful. And I cried. Still. I think I will never be able to hear that song again without thinking of that tiny wooden box and the room full of mourners trying so hard to find words to say, to express what their hearts were feeling. That one line:
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall....
It stabs me to the heart. To think that they choose to claim that, even in the midst of heart-crushing grief-- such faith awes me and touches me and I want so much to be there with her, for her. But I can't.
So, so much has changed so veryvery quickly for our family this year. I still feel as though I'm standing in one of those hourglasses with the sand running rapidly through, out from under my feet and I'm clinging to the slippery glass walls trying to find a way to keep from getting sucked through. I just haven't had the time and the space to process it all, to "adjust". Someone asked us this morning when we decided to move and J said the end of March and it hit me. Bam. March, April, May, June, July, August. Six months. Half a year. That's all. In six months we went from normal Us, to something that, on a Bad Day, I don't even recognize anymore.
I recognize that bad days come and go and there are also beautiful Florida days, when the kids are happy and Jamie is still and tranquil, the contractions are mild, J gets home early and I remember that "...the lines have fallen to me in pleasant places". I am so thankful for all that the Lord has worked in our lives in these six short months.
But some days, I just want some time to sit and think. And some days I just want to go out for coffee at Organic Grounds. Or drop in on the Trainums. Or run into friends at the Farmer's Market. Or call Laurie up and go buy some plants. Or put up a post on Facebook to meet me at the library in twenty minutes and see who shows up!
I think I should go to bed now and see if things look any better in the morning.
I'm a little leery, I have discovered, of subjecting all you innocent readers to my descriptions of the sensations and events of my labor. Soooo. I'm starting a new, quickie blog which I'll link to whenever I have a post up. You can subscribe there, if you're interested, or link in from here, or simply remain in blissful ignorance of that part of my life :) Your choice. I'm really just doing this for my own benefit and that of any interested parties. It's not that I'm shy, just that I realize that some of you are a captive audience, receiving my blog in a reader or by email (those of you who get it in an email, Barb, can let me know if you want to get the Birth Blog, too and I'll set you up). I'll still be blogging innocuous family news and all my latest opinions on stuff here as well, never fear!
OK. So. The last post was written in something of a maelstrom of self-pity and frustration. As I spent the last day pondering what I wrote (yes, I know, I should ponder BEFORE I write) I realized that all that whining might even hurt some friends that read this blog and would literally give their right arms to trade places with me-- four weeks of contractions or no. So, in the spirit of gratefulness for the blessing that is this new life and repentance for my bad attitude, let's do a re-write. Only for penance, I'll leave the other one up, too. Honesty at all cost.
It's for the sake of dealing better with all this prodromal labor that I've decided to go ahead and let myself talk about "being in labor" this time around. I've decided not to play mind games, not to try and ignore contractions, or do crazy, herculean feats to try to get them to increase, or take all kinds of weird concoctions to get them to quit. But rather to just accept that this is the normal, GOOD working of my body to bring a baby into the world. It takes me two to four weeks to get a baby out. It just does.
I'm not going to say these are Braxton-Hicks, either. They're not. It's different. This is the same kind of ctx I have in labor, just less intense and less regular and predictable. B-H ctx feel like squeezing... like squeezing a rubber ball really hard and then gradually letting go. But these ctx have an edge, a sharpness, that B-H don't. Like squeezing a ball of tinfoil. Prickly, with edges. Later on, as labor progresses over the next few weeks, the edges will get sharper and harder-- although it's always one step forward, two steps back. Then, at some point, I'll notice that it's less tin foil and more like actual tin. And then we'll progress to the feeling of being in a car-crusher and then I'll call the midwife :)
When I can think rationally and calmly about simply being in the looooong first stages of actually bringing my child into the world, I'm able to be at peace about it. When I can agree with what my body's doing, instead of fighting it and trying to manipulate and change it, then I can accept what's going on. It lets me distract myself with other tasks, instead of getting all tense-- "will they stop? will they get harder? is this It? what should I do???"
The answer is, do nothing. Rest. Wait on the Lord. The good work He has begun in me, He will accomplish it in His own time.
As far as blogging goes, I intend to keep a kind of daily journal of how this weeks-long labor progresses. It might be helpful to Sofi one day, as an example of how the women in our family seem to do this :) Who knows? It may be good info for others in the meantime. Regardless, it will at least help me to articulate what's happening and keep track of the progress, as slow as it may seem in the moment.
As a disclaimer, I don't know if I have any male readers, but if so, y'all might wanna occupy yourselves elsewhere for a while here. Things might get a little TMI.
That's it. I'm calling it. I am in labor. Starting now. Or rather, 6:30 pm, August 25th. God only knows when he'll actually be born, but by golly, I'm going to get full credit for all the *muttercusscussmutter* I have to put up with in the last month of pregnancy. EVERY SINGLE EVENING, I will probably have at least an hour of regular, strong, timeable contractions. Contractions intense enough to have me pacing the floors and snapping at all and sunder. For at least the next four weeks. One day my children will appreciate what I went through for them!!
I hope.
In the meantime, I'm at least going to get the credit for my four-week-long labors. And when y'all hear rumors of three or four "false alarms" that bring J rushing home from work in the middle of the day, only to have things peter out in a few hours, I want you to realize the extent of the confusion caused by my BLASTED uterus. Seriously. With Judah, I wasn't convinced it was reallyforreal until my water broke, 45 minutes before he was born. Everyone else knew what was going on, but I still had this nagging feeling that I was going to have to shame-faced-ly send everyone home any minute right up till that moment.
We saw four houses tonight, but these were the only two that didn't get crossed of the list right away. I'm linking to the Photobucket album, is you want to see the pics and video I took, but in summary (for those of you with dial-up--- Mom):
This one is my favorite. Matter of fact, it's bumped up to the top of my list-- all time. I like the wood trim, the extra room, the KITCHEN (omg. the KITCHEN-- and the cabinets!! Cabinets out the wazoo AND a PANTRY), the fireplace in the dining room, the stained glass windows in the "study" and beside the front door. Another feature that I didn't photograph; there's a very small bdr, kinda hidden away on the other side of the master bath. So you walk through the MBR and the MBTH and then there's a sliding door to a bdr, about 9X9ft (5 "bdrs" total-- although one would be used as an office/guest room). Perfect for a baby's room! Also, there's tons of space around the pool (a safety issue for me-- I don't like the feeling that you walk out the back door and fall linto the pool, as we've seen in several houses so far) and plenty of room for gardening! Love the shutters and the brick pillars in the front.
Cons: No outside entrance to a bathroom (means wet swimsuits traipsing daily through the house to the bathroom), no appliances (not too big a deal), no pool screen-- bummer.
This is J's favorite. :) You can probably all tell why. He's the realistic one that looks at a house like this and says, "What?? It's in perfect condition, we could move in tomorrow, it's in our price range and the pool is SCREENED IN!! What more could you want???" And I grant you, it's truly lovely. And I'm a fool for preferring one that needs a little TLC. BUT. I can't help myself. I think it's a family curse. I want a house with character-- brick and hardwood and stained glass, you know? This one has brand-new tile, laminate (*gags*) and a HOT TUB. Right outside the MBR :D The kitchen has brand-new modern appliances and a built in desk, granite counter tops and a wet-bar in the living room. There is a truly SJP-worthy walk-in closet in the MBR and spotless paint on the walls.
But it's also $20K more than the other one. And it doesn't have a brick surround in the kitchen. Or stained glass windows. Or much room in the back yard.
*sigh*
Ok. Opinions, people. I need opinions!!!!!!! Fire away!
