I started a post with a pregnancy update about two weeks ago now--when I was 37 weeks pregnant. Since then a lot has happened! But I'll keep what I wrote pre-baby . . . and then follow up with post-baby updates . . .
37 and a half weeks pregnant
37 Weeks
I haven't posted much about our upcoming November baby, but that's not an intentional slight! The three born children take up most of my energy and attention (and, of course, are photographable). But I thought I should post at least once more about the baby inside while she's still there. Hopefully she'll vacate current accommodations in about three weeks!
Tuesdays mark the counting of the weeks till my due date, so Tuesday the 20th was 37 weeks gestation--meaning I'm "in the clear" for delivery. At my appointment with my midwife, Emily, on Wednesday the 21st, Baby's heartbeat was strong at 135-140 bpm. Fundal height measured 36 cm. Emily felt around a little and determined Baby is head down, for which I'm grateful. My strep B test came back negative (yeah! no antibiotics during labor!). I've gained about 23 pounds in all thus far and have plateaued the last few weeks. (For reference, I gained a total of 25 with Josiah and about 50 with the girls.)
In terms of pregnancy symptoms, this pregnancy has been the easiest thus far. Josiah's was quite a difficult pregnancy--enough to make me rethink my hope for several children! Daily nausea, lots of throwing up, hungry but averse to food, reflux, heartburn--contrary to my mother's experience, being pregnant was NO FUN. I wasn't as sick for as long with my twin pregnancy, and I would happily take the aches and pains that came with stretching pelvis and ligaments and extra weight gain with twins over the nausea and vomiting that lasted forever with Josiah's pregnancy! But I was pretty huge by the end of pregnancy with the girls . . . it was difficult to handle everyday life with a toddler, cooking duties, picking stuff up off the floor, getting dressed, etc.
So in comparison, this singleton pregnancy has been pretty nice! I still don't love being pregnant. I've had nausea and reflux and heartburn. But I haven't thrown up once, I'm much smaller in the belly than I was with the girls, and the second-trimester pelvic soreness has cleared up. Pretty nice!
The fatigue this pregnancy felt more pronounced, but perhaps that's only because I'm already mother to three active children. Our September bout of awful bronchitis and our current cold have tired me out more, and I'm sick of being sick. I hope this will be the last of illness before the baby arrives.
Other than a high blood sugar result on my glucose screening test (and a week of subsequent finger-pricking to ensure I didn't have gestational diabetes), everything about this pregnancy has been pretty normal. Baby seems to be developing on schedule. Our 20-week ultrasound was routine. And here I am, already 37 weeks along, with increasing Braxton-Hicks contractions but otherwise no sign of impending labor!
I hope to avoid induction this time around. Perhaps the baby would be pleased to come around, oh, November 11th or 12th? That's my current wish.
Our preparations for Baby's arrival have been fairly laid-back so far. I still need to pull out the bin of newborn clothes and cloth diapers. We still need to clean up the "baby spot" in our room, set up her crib, get out her car seat, pack our hospital bag, etc. I did start freezing a few meals, and we rearranged the "big kids'" room so as to free up a crib for Baby's use. (Now they have bunkbeds and a toddler bed between the three of them.)
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38 Weeks and Birth Story
And that above is what I wrote about two weeks ago. Based on my experience in my last two pregnancies, I was convinced I'd go at least till my due date--if not a week or more after. But Baby Girl surprised us by coming almost two weeks early!
I had a routine check-up on Wednesday the 28th. My sister Elisabeth was visiting for a few days after attending a good friend's wedding in Los Angeles. She stayed with the kids while I went to my appointment. Emily (the midwife) confirmed the baby was still head down. Baby's heart rate ran quite high initially (around 180 bpm), but she was moving around, and Emily waited a bit to make sure her heart rate came down. It did. In retrospect, perhaps the minor detail that I had lost a couple pounds was actually an indicator of imminent labor. But neither the midwife nor I expected Baby to come so soon.
Last Thursday (Oct. 29th) was my sister Elisabeth's last day here. That morning while making breakfast, I felt a contraction that was distinctly different from my typical Braxton-Hicks--it radiated out to my hips a little more and involved more downward pressure.
If this is the start of real labor, I thought (half-laughing at myself),
maybe we should see about canceling Elisabeth's flight and keeping her here a few more days!
But of course, I didn't think it could be anything like early labor. I was only 38 weeks along, after all. So we continued about the morning, and I kept getting an occasional contraction that was stronger and lower than my usual Braxton-Hicks. I also felt like the baby had dropped--my belly seemed heavier, with more downward pull than before.
We dropped Elisabeth at the airport soon after noon, came back home, and did the naptime routine. I put my feet up between dealing with a wakeful Josiah and diaper changes for the girls (why do they always poop during nap time?!).
The evening continued uneventfully: Jer came home, we ate dinner, he gave the kids a bath, we dealt with bedtime meltdowns, and finally all three were sleeping. As we cleaned up the kitchen, Jer told me about some work drama, and I got a stronger contraction--I had to zone him out a little and concentrate on it till it passed.
Soon those harder contractions came a little closer together. I thought they were probably prodromal labor and would quit in a bit. But still, I figured we should be on the safe side and make sure we had childcare covered if we had to go to the hospital. I texted to ask my friend Jamaila to keep her phone on in case we needed to call her to come over that night.
Meanwhile, I thought we'd be wise to write up some notes about the kids' routine and throw some things into a hospital bag--just in case. Between contractions I jotted down notes, pulled out some clean clothes for myself, did a load of laundry, tidied up the living room, and reminded Jeremy to print the birth plan and pack the camera--just in case.
I updated my mom on my contractions a few times that evening via WhatsApp. She skyped me at about 10:30 p.m. At that point I was breathing through hard contractions coming
about five minutes apart, but I was still mostly convinced it was
prodromal labor and would probably taper off and leave me pregnant for a
couple more weeks. I told her they weren't easily manageable anymore, but they weren't long enough to qualify as "real labor."
Emily (the midwife) had told me to make sure labor was truly established before going to the hospital. Both Jeremy and I convinced ourselves we needed to wait several hours to ensure the contractions didn't peter out. Plus, I had never gone into labor on my own (I was induced at 41 weeks with Josiah and 39 weeks with the girls). Sure, I knew what labor contractions felt like . . . and these were surprisingly similar--but at 38 weeks??
I told Jeremy I'd get in the tub and see if the contractions subsided. I kept my mom on Skype and she timed contractions and talked me through them. I mostly wanted to be on my hands and knees as I breathed through contractions, and the water felt good--but it didn't slow the labor.
At some point I went to the bathroom and realized I lost my mucus plug. Maybe at that time we decided to call Jamaila to ask her to come--I can't remember exactly. I was wholly focused on working through contractions, which were closer and longer. Jeremy continued to pack a hospital bag and ready the guest room for Jamaila.
She arrived (she had to drive about 20-30 minutes) and later reported that when she heard the noise I was making during contractions, she thought I should hustle right along to the hospital! Perhaps 20 minutes after Jamaila came, my mom (over Skype) said she thought I should mention to Jeremy that we might want to make a move toward going to the hospital.
Well, I didn't want to move from the tub and I certainly didn't want to labor for hours at the hospital or be sent home. I wasn't sure what to do (and the indecision showed I was probably entering transition!).
It may have been around 12:15 a.m. when I got a few contractions in a row that made my arms tingly and that felt
too strong. "I don't know if I can do this anymore," I told Jeremy--at which cue he decided we'd better hurry up and get to the hospital. He threw the bags in the car and brought my clothes and shoes into the bathroom. As I got out and dried off (scared of contractions at each move I made, and with constant crampiness that comes in transition), I told him I didn't want to get in the car. "Maybe we should call an ambulance. Or maybe we just shouldn't go to the hospital," I told him. I felt the first urge to push with a very strong contraction--and Jeremy propelled me to the car, firm in his resolve to get to the hospital ASAP.
That car ride was perhaps the worst I've ever experienced. (While Jeremy did go 80+ on the freeway, it wasn't due to poor driving that I felt so miserable!) I knelt over the front seat and tried to breathe through each terrible contraction while bracing myself against the swaying and stopping and starting of the car. Jeremy rubbed my back when he could with one hand--that was strangely comforting and helpful.
My sense of time was foggy as I concentrated on the contractions that hardly let me rest. Jeremy pulled into a parking spot and stopped the car. When I looked out the window and saw a parking garage, I said, "No, no, no! MAIN ENTRANCE!" He drove back out and found an entrance (not the main one). It was quiet and dark at almost 1 a.m., but the security guard noticed my condition and went to fetch a wheelchair.
I clung to Jeremy as we walked across the lobby (I was barefoot--wasn't up to putting on shoes in the car, I guess!), and the security guard brought the wheelchair just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. I vehemently denied the offer of the wheelchair (I couldn't imagine sitting down while dealing with the contractions), and suddenly my water broke and splashed all over the floor. I apologized to the security guard and we went up in the elevator to the Labor and Delivery floor.
We exited the elevator and the long hall stretched before me, seeming impossible to cover. I made Jeremy move quicker between my contractions so we'd make progress toward the intake desk. The nurses saw us coming and brought a wheelchair--this time they forced me to sit in it. We sped toward triage, where I tipped over onto a bed and started pushing. Those contractions are inexorable--I couldn't fight them.
A nurse checked me and said, "She's complete! She's crowning!" She asked me to stop pushing and they wheeled the bed into the triage L&D room (one with a door vs. curtains), and with a couple more pushes, Baby's head was out--and then the rest of her followed.
She cried briefly as they rubbed her and put her on my chest. We heard them talk about clamping the cord, and I told them not to--we wanted to wait till it stopped pulsating. So Clara (though we hadn't named her yet) cuddled under a blanket with me and I rejoiced that labor was over and marveled that my baby was here!
Clara latched beautifully after just a little while and started nursing away. The midwife arrived about 20-30 minutes after Clara's birth and orchestrated the cord clamping/cutting, placenta delivery, stitching (I had a first-degree tear), etc. I asked the nurses to wait to give me a shot of pitocin until Emily arrived, and she said it wasn't necessary. Clara was nursing well and I could feel the afterbirth contractions clamping down the uterus. My blood loss was fairly minimal. Interestingly, while I've heard the afterbirth contractions are horrid with a third delivery, mine weren't as bad as those I got with the twins' birth. I wonder if the lack of pitocin had something to do with it--plus my uterus wasn't as stretched out!
Clara was 6 lbs, 4 oz--just one ounce more than Lydia at birth! She scored 9 and 9 on her Apgars and was quite alert. I think her hair is darker than any of the other kids'. According to the hospital measurements, she was 20.5 inches long. But at her pediatrician appointment at five days old, she measured just 19 or 19.25 inches . . . so I think she's probably closer to her other siblings (who were all in the 19 range) than an extra inch and a half taller. She's sweet and beautiful and we all love her dearly.
In retrospect, it's a fun birth story and I'm glad we skipped some annoying hospital protocol by staying home . . . but Jeremy had a scare, we almost had the baby in the car--we should have gone a little sooner! (I was especially glad to have skipped the 20 minutes of mandatory monitoring in triage. The Lord answered my prayer about that--just in an unexpected manner!) I'm so grateful for the short labor and fairly easy, uncomplicated birth. And Jeremy is happy we didn't have to pay for an ambulance (an out-of-pocket cost--not covered by insurance--which certainly motivated him to get me to the hospital).
So--there's the story of Clara's arrival. I'll post more soon about her first meeting with her siblings, grandparents, and great-grandma and the other events of her first week of life.
