Last Dance
I woke up last Thursday unsure if my water had broken.
Listen, don't judge me. When you're pregnant and you do all the reading, you learn quickly that your water breaking in real life isn't nearly as dramatic as it is on TV. It's not a giant gush, the way Pam on The Office would have you believe when she hid a water bottle between her legs to get out of a meeting. Especially not if you're sitting or standing, in which case the baby's head serves almost like a cork to stop the liquid from coming out that much. (I know, pleasant to think about.)
When laying down, things can get a little messier, and I didn't seem to be that bad. Still... I googled things and found that some women can end up with a slow leak of amniotic fluid, which isn't good for the baby. The vast majority of women don't have their water break until they're well into labor, but still, I worried. At least a little. I didn't actually think anything was happening... but what if it was?
I very much considered waiting to do anything until the next day because I had a doctor's appointment scheduled. I didn't want to be a pain in the butt over what I thought was nothing. But that's what doctors are there for, right? You're supposed to call them when you're worried, and I haven't done that through this whole process. So, after breakfast and some TV, I swallowed my pride and called the office, and they said to come right in.
(Some minor graphic details in the paragraph ahead)
Of course, the doctor asked why I hadn't called sooner if this had been going on for a couple of days (which it had, just not as much as that morning). He had been at the hospital for the last two days! He wasn't nasty about it, thankfully, just probably perplexed about why I waited if I really thought there was a problem. Then, in another move I couldn't make up if I tried, I had a pH strip inserted in me to do a litmus test on my fluids.
Yet another time I became a science project.
But I was fine. Not leaking amniotic fluid, thankfully. It did make me wonder what would have happened if I had called while the doctor was at the hospital. Would they have called me in and induced labor just because I was there and it was convenient? Not, honestly, that I might have minded at this point. It would just kind of be the path of least resistance, and the discomfort would be over, and we'd have our baby girl in our arms.
Otherwise, I've partially dilated about 1 1/2 cm, so still not a lot going on. I'm starting to think that I might just be having extremely slow prelabor, which I read about. I might have been having very minor contractions for the past few weeks. Not really sure about that one, either. So maybe if we let this go another week or two, things would happen on their own.
But it was that time. No more choice for me. I signed off on the induction for this week to avoid having to go to my appointment the next day. Now we have all the paperwork to take into the hospital tomorrow night. We go in at 7, get some sort of pill, and come home to sleep. Then go back in 6am Wednesday to start the pitocin.
Which I'm not too excited about. So many people have told me to make sure to tell the people administering it not to give me too much at once. Sooooo, the people at the hospital aren't necessarily well versed on how to do this? Great. Awesome. Gives me faith in them. I'll do my best to nicely tell them not to go overboard, but there's also the weird feeling of, how do I tell nurses how to do their job? And will that just upset them?
Getting ready to put my best fake-nice face forward. Hopefully if I'm vulnerable enough, it'll all be okay.
As I said before, I'm not even sure if I've been having contractions. There are these weird feelings I've gotten for the past few months that are hard to explain, almost like someone put a balloon in my stomach and blew it up and left it there for a few seconds. Like things get bigger? Most people describe their contractions as your stomach "feeling hard." Is big the same thing, or is this just a stretch from the baby? It doesn't feel like one of her movements.
I tried to describe this in my pregnancy after infertility support group. I also mentioned the feeling didn't seem to last long enough to be a serious contraction, but I just wanted to know if it was a contraction in the first place. And then most people who commented on it just told me that the timing sounded like Braxton Hicks if anything.
Yes. I know. I wasn't asking about the timing. I was asking about the sensation.
I swear. I worry about people's abilities to read.
There have been a few times I've timed the gaps between these possible contractions, but it's never been less than 20 minutes. Not anywhere close to 5, which is when you call the doctor.
Every movement, every new sensation, gets me so hopeful. It's strange when you don't know what it is you're going to feel. And the best things people can tell you are "Your stomach will feel hard" (Like I've eaten too much cake hard? Like I've done a lot of crunches hard?) and "You'll know it when you feel it." (Gee. That's helpful.)
Last night as we were drifting off to sleep, I said to Jon, "Well, that's it. This is officially the end of the last weekend we'll ever have without her." It's not bad at all, it's just weird. Nine months of question marks and guesses and anxiety and excitement, and now we have an actual end point. An actual date for the most majorly life changing event we've had yet to face.
People told us everything would change when we got married. That was absolutely absurd. We had already been together for eight years. All that changed was we got to wear cool rings. We thought maybe when we bought our first house and moved out of my parents' six months later, things would really change. They just got better. The stresses and pressures of home owning have never gotten to us in any way. We always joked that our lives changed the most when we bought our 55" TV.
But this? This is real change. It'll never be just the two of us again. Someone out there thinks we're responsible enough to take care of another human. We're not scared; we're excited. And probably a little uncertain.
But hey, she said sarcastically. Now we can join the rest of the human race in joking about how miserable and exhausting children are! (We will not be doing this. I hate this. At least, I don't think we'll be doing this.)
So this is probably the last entry here before our girl makes her entrance to the world. Thanks for sticking around for the crazy ride so far.
Here we go.
Listen, don't judge me. When you're pregnant and you do all the reading, you learn quickly that your water breaking in real life isn't nearly as dramatic as it is on TV. It's not a giant gush, the way Pam on The Office would have you believe when she hid a water bottle between her legs to get out of a meeting. Especially not if you're sitting or standing, in which case the baby's head serves almost like a cork to stop the liquid from coming out that much. (I know, pleasant to think about.)
When laying down, things can get a little messier, and I didn't seem to be that bad. Still... I googled things and found that some women can end up with a slow leak of amniotic fluid, which isn't good for the baby. The vast majority of women don't have their water break until they're well into labor, but still, I worried. At least a little. I didn't actually think anything was happening... but what if it was?
I very much considered waiting to do anything until the next day because I had a doctor's appointment scheduled. I didn't want to be a pain in the butt over what I thought was nothing. But that's what doctors are there for, right? You're supposed to call them when you're worried, and I haven't done that through this whole process. So, after breakfast and some TV, I swallowed my pride and called the office, and they said to come right in.
(Some minor graphic details in the paragraph ahead)
Of course, the doctor asked why I hadn't called sooner if this had been going on for a couple of days (which it had, just not as much as that morning). He had been at the hospital for the last two days! He wasn't nasty about it, thankfully, just probably perplexed about why I waited if I really thought there was a problem. Then, in another move I couldn't make up if I tried, I had a pH strip inserted in me to do a litmus test on my fluids.
Yet another time I became a science project.
But I was fine. Not leaking amniotic fluid, thankfully. It did make me wonder what would have happened if I had called while the doctor was at the hospital. Would they have called me in and induced labor just because I was there and it was convenient? Not, honestly, that I might have minded at this point. It would just kind of be the path of least resistance, and the discomfort would be over, and we'd have our baby girl in our arms.
Otherwise, I've partially dilated about 1 1/2 cm, so still not a lot going on. I'm starting to think that I might just be having extremely slow prelabor, which I read about. I might have been having very minor contractions for the past few weeks. Not really sure about that one, either. So maybe if we let this go another week or two, things would happen on their own.
But it was that time. No more choice for me. I signed off on the induction for this week to avoid having to go to my appointment the next day. Now we have all the paperwork to take into the hospital tomorrow night. We go in at 7, get some sort of pill, and come home to sleep. Then go back in 6am Wednesday to start the pitocin.
Which I'm not too excited about. So many people have told me to make sure to tell the people administering it not to give me too much at once. Sooooo, the people at the hospital aren't necessarily well versed on how to do this? Great. Awesome. Gives me faith in them. I'll do my best to nicely tell them not to go overboard, but there's also the weird feeling of, how do I tell nurses how to do their job? And will that just upset them?
Getting ready to put my best fake-nice face forward. Hopefully if I'm vulnerable enough, it'll all be okay.
As I said before, I'm not even sure if I've been having contractions. There are these weird feelings I've gotten for the past few months that are hard to explain, almost like someone put a balloon in my stomach and blew it up and left it there for a few seconds. Like things get bigger? Most people describe their contractions as your stomach "feeling hard." Is big the same thing, or is this just a stretch from the baby? It doesn't feel like one of her movements.
I tried to describe this in my pregnancy after infertility support group. I also mentioned the feeling didn't seem to last long enough to be a serious contraction, but I just wanted to know if it was a contraction in the first place. And then most people who commented on it just told me that the timing sounded like Braxton Hicks if anything.
Yes. I know. I wasn't asking about the timing. I was asking about the sensation.
I swear. I worry about people's abilities to read.
There have been a few times I've timed the gaps between these possible contractions, but it's never been less than 20 minutes. Not anywhere close to 5, which is when you call the doctor.
Every movement, every new sensation, gets me so hopeful. It's strange when you don't know what it is you're going to feel. And the best things people can tell you are "Your stomach will feel hard" (Like I've eaten too much cake hard? Like I've done a lot of crunches hard?) and "You'll know it when you feel it." (Gee. That's helpful.)
Last night as we were drifting off to sleep, I said to Jon, "Well, that's it. This is officially the end of the last weekend we'll ever have without her." It's not bad at all, it's just weird. Nine months of question marks and guesses and anxiety and excitement, and now we have an actual end point. An actual date for the most majorly life changing event we've had yet to face.
People told us everything would change when we got married. That was absolutely absurd. We had already been together for eight years. All that changed was we got to wear cool rings. We thought maybe when we bought our first house and moved out of my parents' six months later, things would really change. They just got better. The stresses and pressures of home owning have never gotten to us in any way. We always joked that our lives changed the most when we bought our 55" TV.
But this? This is real change. It'll never be just the two of us again. Someone out there thinks we're responsible enough to take care of another human. We're not scared; we're excited. And probably a little uncertain.
But hey, she said sarcastically. Now we can join the rest of the human race in joking about how miserable and exhausting children are! (We will not be doing this. I hate this. At least, I don't think we'll be doing this.)
So this is probably the last entry here before our girl makes her entrance to the world. Thanks for sticking around for the crazy ride so far.
Here we go.
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