Monday is my due date. When I initially wrote it in red Sharpie on the calendar, I didn't think it would become so permanent. Each week, our small family gathers around to see what fruit Grace has become this week. I remember blueberry, which was before we'd even told my then three-year-old we were pregnant, green olive (which made me feel nauseous that week ... wasn't feeling it), every type of squash imaginable, all the way to week 39's "mini-watermelon." We've never peeked ahead, all the way back since the beginning of May, Mother's Day, when I took my first positive pregnancy test.
Since week 37(and maybe secretly back into week 36), I've been trying everything to get this little girl to come out. Initially, it was for convenience. But even the Doctor got our hopes up when he told us she may arrive before New Years. I remember almost jumping for joy at 36 weeks when I was told I was about 2 centimeters dilated, and my cervix was soft. Yay! Get those ducks in a row! Pack your hospital bags! Do a triple-last-minute check on supplies!
We were squared away.
Into weeks 38 and 39 we rolled, and I was getting more miserable by the minute. I went back to not being able to sleep at night. Things started swelling on my body that had absolutely no business being swollen. And the pain! Oh, the twinges, whose pain can hardly be described to any member of the opposite sex. The contractions that sneak up on you in the middle of the night and suck the air out of the room. The two trips to Labor and Delivery with contractions so perfectly timed and oh so strong that it "just had to be it!" The extreme joy at seeing more of your mucus plug, like the surprise picture on the bottom of the cereal bowl when you were a kid.
And yet, back on my message boards, mamas are pushing babies out at 35, 36, 37 weeks 2 days. Pout.
Monday is my due date and nothing is happening. I waited ten days from my last cervical check to be told yesterday afternoon I'm at 2cm, 50% effaced... (this has not changed in several weeks) and the baby is still high. Very high. When doing my exam, it felt like "in my throat" high, but I took it like a trooper. I've even had my membranes stripped twice. Anything to speed things along, right?
Then I came home, and it hit me. If everything was easy, nothing would really be worth it.
Just think about it for a minute: Would I have been happy to have had her at 37 weeks? Heck yes. But am I walking around on pins and needles now, at 39 weeks 5 days? And instead of just being happy, will I be ECSTATIC now when she finally gets here after feeling like it's been forever? I have to say yes, yes I will. The more we want something, the more "worth it" it all becomes in the end.
Maybe that's why full term (and past term) mommas are all left behind. We've been given extra opportunity to wish these little babes into the world. We've gone from "wanting" to pining. To begging. To praying. To "making deals." It's no longer a matter of the stories of the mamas waking up at 36 weeks with broken water and easy labor. We've conquered that mountain. Many of us are now facing changes in birth plans. (Say having to schedule your own induction?? Most definitely not how I thought it would happen!) Maybe, instead of being frustrated, there's a sense of pride I should start to sow. I'm going to try my best. I'll be proud. I'll stand strong.
(But by all means, if I feel the need to head to labor and delivery I WILL GO!)
You are amazing girl!! I remember them trying to induce Keira at 37 weeks with pitocin. They did that for 2 weeks straight until I just simply had enough. (They refused to break my water, gotta love naval hospitals.) But, the little stinker decided to come on her due date. I made plea bargains with her, told her if she just broke mommas water, that she would be able to stretch.. Anywhoo, she was determined to arrive at 40 weeks at 5:50 a.m.
ReplyDeleteI just assumed that she wanted to be punctual.
You are so close! We are rooting for you, girl!
~Holly