I warned you
I told you this was coming as soon as we near either of my children’s birthdays, I get all sentimental and start reflecting on their pregnancies and actual birth days. And Crosby is almost one. So here it comes – reliving the final days of my pregnancy with him. Next you can count on a rehashing of his delivering. And then? An ushy-gushy post devoted to how amazing his presence in my life is.
But first, a picture I never showed you from the day before we went to the hospital to have our son.
This was taken Saturday night, October 29th, 2011. I was certain I was in labor. So certain that we gathered all of our bags and placed them by door so we could dash out when my contractions grew stronger. I called the doctor, let him know I was in labor. He suggested I try drinking some water and going to bed. “Um…but I’m in labor? And want to go to the hospital?” He insisted I try laying down first. Fine. See you soon, Doc! And then my contractions stopped. I felt incredibly disappointed and stupid. How could I have been wrong? Little did I know, I’d be in the throws of labor less than 24 hours later.
Another random fact? The night before (my due date, Fri. Oct 28th), we decided to go out to dinner one last time as a threesome. The waitress asked when I was due and was surprised I was out on my due date. When I placed my order, the fish fry (of course. I’m a Wisconsin girl through and through), she said, “Uh oh! At your own risk. Our fish has put several women into labor.” Then bring me all of it. I will eat the fish until I leave for the hospital. I didn’t. But I did go into labor 48 hours later. The must batter their cod in pitocin.
Well, without further adu, here are the last 2 posts I wrote before heading to the hospital to have my 9 lb Halloween baby.
October 23, 2011 The Ticking Time Bomb Stage of Pregnancy
That’s where I’m at, with my due date (Friday the 28th) just days away.
It’s the stage where strangers try to stay out of your way, family members are on pins and needles and coworkers appear in your doorway every day to see if you’ve shown up. Or, if they’re my coworkers, they also set up a calendar outside your office and take bets on what day you’ll go into labor. It’s actually made things rather amusing.
Back to pajamas! Really unflattering ones, too. I swear I used to have an ass, but it’s vanished. P.S. If my stomach dropped any lower, it would be at my knees.
If you’re the so-called time bomb, these last days of pregnancy are rather tortuous. I go to sleep every night wondering if I’ll wake up in labor. Each morning, as I head into work, I pray that my water won’t break while I’m there (and I have towels in my car, along with a hospital bag, in case it does). There is a silver lining though. Each day that I remain pregnant, I’m able to get a few more things accomplished, whether it’s around the house or at my job.
I left the office on Friday night certain I wouldn’t be heading back in on Monday. But Monday is just hours away and I remain super pregnant. Since this is my second child, I’m aware that due dates are just estimates and a partially dilated cervix means little. However, when a doctor even hints, just a little, that your body is definitely getting ready to have a baby, all a pregnant woman hears is Baby. Coming. and instantly transitions into “I will have this child at any second.” At least that’s how I reacted.
I am grateful to have had one more weekend to soak up the awesomeness of my daughter and to relax and sleep more than life with a toddler and newborn will allow. I managed to squeeze in a crying fit, too, tears streaming down my cheeks as I sobbed about missing my daughter and briefly drowned in guilt over her having to share my attention and affection. After that episode, I thought for sure that this kid was coming. Nope.
Now, I just feel ready. Ready because I can barely move, sit or sleep. Ready because it has been 9 months of anticipating and preparing. And ready because I know everything will be okay. And because I am truly anxious to have my son in my arms and to watch us become a new family all over again.
As always, you all have been fantastic and supportive the whole way through this, reassuring me and reading on as I over-agonized and worried. Thank you. And I can’t wait to share this new journey with you. Like really, really cannot wait. As in I wish the journey would begin tonight. Or in five minutes.
October 27, 2011 40 Weeks and I Only Just Now Realized That I Have Balls
I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever, but at the same time, I’m amazed this pregnancy is almost over. Nine months of planning and worrying. Nine months of growing and becoming attached to my son. Nine months of prepping my daughter for a baby brother, and prepping myself for a crazier life, but in the best, happiest way.
At this point, there’s not that much more to say. We’ve talked about it all. Well, there’s one thing I haven’t mentioned. I have a regret about this pregnancy. One huge glaring regret. About a year ago, I wrote a letter to Addy about my wish for her to be brave, concluding it with this bit of priceless wisdom: Be brave enough to be a woman with really big cajones, cause you’ll learn they’re an invaluable asset. Yup, even more than your boobs.
That post remains one of my favorites, probably because it’s still addressed to me just as much as it to Addy. But that’s not the point I’m making. My regret is my point, and it is this. I am pregnant with a boy. And I only just connected what that means. For the only time in my life, I literally have a pair of cajones. Granted, they’re just baby-size right now, but do you know how many times I could’ve used that excuse to make up for poor behavior and a bitchy attitude? “It’s the balls. The only reason I called you a jackass and then flipped you the bird is cause I have nuts right now. I’ll be back to my usual pleasant self in nine months, when I’m castrated via giving birth.”
I’m so disappointed in myself.