In Waiting, Take Two

Today is Sept. 11. As much as I would like to have this baby as soon as possible, the Lord willing, today's date wouldn't be good. My father is visiting, and said if she came today, we'd have to name her "Disaster." Not good. I do feel more "raw" down there today, if I may say so. Yesterday, what I think may have been the "mucus plug" (the "plug" in the cervix during pregnancy) came unplugged while I went to the bathroom. Apparently, labor follows this unplugging within a day or two, which I'm hoping is the case. Let's just wait at least one minute after midnight, OK, baby? so it's Sept. 12.
Funny enough, my Mom just took apart a 2000 piece puzzle of the Twin Towers yesterday, which we'd been trying so hard to finish but gave up. I had taken it out to occupy us indoors during the week long "Fickle Fay" tropical storm, not knowing how impossibly hard it would be to complete it. After doing about 3/4 of it, we got so tired of not having our large round white table, especially having my Mom and Dad as guests, that I gave my Mom permission to pack it up. My nanny, M, who had also invested hours into it, gladly took it and wanted to tackle it on her own. I'm glad it's gone. I had hesitated if I'd wanted to meditate on a disaster just weeks prior to this baby's birth.
I've been trying to take action to speed up this birthing process. Last night, I jogged through the yard with the kids, if you could even call it jogging. It was more like strained walking with pitiful hops. My daughters kept telling me, "Mom, that's not jogging!" Maybe they'll understand one day.
My parents have been here all week anticipating the birth of their third grandaughter, but their time has run out. I've reassured them that their presence here has not been in vain and has been greatly appreciated. They've been so busy cooking, weeding my whole garden, mowing the lawn, playing with the children, and simply giving me nice company, which has been making the time pass by for me alot more quickly. I also simply feel more at ease when other adults are around and don't feel the pressure of full responsibility of the children. That has been a great blessing, especially now that I don't have as much energy as usual to do things with the kids. And quite frankly, the discomfort of my huge belly has made me a bit of a grump at times, so the kids have greatly benefited from having lively, cheery adults around.
Now I'll continue with "Labor Story" Number Two, when my second daughter, J, was born. Several months prior to her due date, we had moved out of our farming village outside of Bern, Switzerland, to a neighborhood closer into town. We were sad to leave our village, where we'd made so many dear friends, but having no car, I couldn't do the shopping on foot or by bike anymore being pregnant with a one year old. With only the first child, it was doable, pushing her three miles round-trip with a load of groceries in my back-pack on the way back, but being pregnant and anticipating another one...nope. We were somewhat settled in by the due date, but we still had boxes all around and certainly had not prepared a baby room. We had an old Swiss antique cradle passed down to us from my husband's family, and that was enough at first.
When I was about to pop and was gettting one new stretch mark a day (I only got them with J), I was examined by my OB, and, as my mid-wife had warned us, he "popped the plug," the "mucus plug," that is. Apparently, he was one of those doctors who liked to have timely births, so he did this to get it on with. I can't say he did it for sure, but that night, when going to the bathroom, I did see a big wad of mucus in the toilet. Is this too disgusting to write in a blog? Oh well, it's just the way it is in this world of having babies! Anyway, the next night, I did go into labor, and boy did I go into labor. Again, as I'd said about the first labor story, those were the days when my uterus was in good shape!
The labor hit hard from the very start at about 1 in the morning, but I just thought I had to go poop really bad. Three times, I got up to go do what I thought was a certain number, but nothing came out, at least not as much as I felt should come out. Then there was blood when I wiped, and then I realized the pressure wasn't a big poop, it was a head trying to come out! Since we still didn't have a car, we'd planned to call a taxi. But first, we had to call our friend from our old village, Julia, to come pick up our daughter, S. When I told her the contractions were already three minutes apart, she said, "WAS?!" (WHAT?!) and said she'd get there right away and take us to the hospital herself. As agonizing as that ride was, I remember the sweet, reassuring feeling it was to hold my daughter, S's, hand the whole ride there. She thought all my moans and groans during contractions were funny, and she giggled and sang and talked the whole way. We checked in, waited a few grueling minutes in the lobby, I got in a wheelchair, but then got out and walked because I couldn't sit down, went up a couple floors in the elevator, and then bent over in pain once out of the elevator. My mid-wife came out and greeted us and urged me to come straight to the birthing room. I told her no and said I couldn't walk, but then she said in a thick Bernese accent, "But Georgia, you don't want to give birth in the hall, do you?!" At that, I mustered all my strength together and walked what seemed a mile to the room. As soon as I arrived, I collapsed over a Pilates ball with my knees on the floor, pushed a couple of times and J was out! From that first onset of labor on the jon to this moment was one hour and 20 minutes! I have yet to beat that record, but don't intend on doing it! Not only had I had a good speedy record so far, I'd also gone all natural. Heck, there'd been no time to do anything else! It's ta ta for now!

"In Waiting"

Here I am in waiting just a day before the official Sept. 10 due date of my sixth child, a baby girl, name to be determined at birth. The German phrase "in Erwartung" (in waiting) so accurately describes what it's really like for a woman to be expecting; it's so much about anticipating, and especially in the last weeks, it just feels like a lot of waiting, waiting, waiting...That's how I feel now. When will my body get over these deceiving little "braxton hicks" (sp?) and finally kick into high gear? When will this greatly anticipated and sometimes dreaded labor begin? When will I be over this humongo belly and feel light as a feather again? When will these little heals stop plowing me up in the ribs? What will our labor story be this time? Where will I and my husband be when the moment comes and when?
As I ponder what this next "labor story" will be, I want to reflect back on our past labor stories with our other children. As I think about how God provided each time for a safe, timely and meaningful delivery, I feel comforted that He will do it again, and that I need not worry.
I remember with our first child, S, I had only had the mini contractions with the rising and hardening of the belly a day or two before the birth. I was all prepared for a romantic labor experience and had a baby journal at my bedside to entry the first feeling of being in labor. At 6 in the morning, I was awoken slowly by what felt to be increasingly painful period cramps. When they became regular, about 7 minutes apart, I picked up the journal and started writing, but as soon as I had a few words down, I tossed the journal down and could only moan and groan on the bed. That morning I learned that romantic writing and labor didn't go hand in hand.
We were living in Switzerland at this time, in a little Swiss farming village outside of the capital, Bern. We couldn't afford a car, especially because of gas prices, so we just prayed we'd have a quick means of transportation, either by our landlord or neighbors or, if nothing else, a taxi. Luckily, the labor had begun early enough in the morning to catch our landlord just before he was about to head off for work in his car. We took his car and he took his motorcycle instead. (So glad it wasn't the other way around!) By the time we were on our way to the hospital, the contractions were only several minutes apart. Three hours later, we had a baby girl! The mid-wife had wanted me to wait a bit longer until I reached full dialation, but at some point my body had shifted into pushing mode and it was like a huge locomotive on automatic that I couldn't stop. Those were the days when my uterus was in fine, strong working order. Now I think my mid-wife in Texas (with my fourth child) was right when she said, "Honey, your uterus is just worn out!") With my last pregnancy and this one, it just seems it won't kick into gear.
Well, that's all for now. The labor stories will continue next time. Just stay in tune! Maybe before then, we'll have our newest labor story, but 'til then, it's waiting, waiting, waiting...