Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Bentley's Birth Story- Part 1

All along in my pregnancy, I assumed B would be born early. Fynn was 11 days early and everyone kept telling me that second babies usually come about the same time as first (except one woman I work with who told me about her first being a week or so early and her second about 2 weeks late-she scared me). I figured B would be born around 38 weeks, just like Fynn, which would put me in labor during February vacation. Therefore, I made sure my sub plans were ready, my long-term sub had been in my classroom, and everything else at work was ready as thought I wasn't coming back after break. I also worked towards having everything at home ready for baby by washing clothes, organizing baby gear, etc.

Then 38 weeks came. I went to my check up, found out I was only 2 cm dilated (and had been for two weeks), which meant I wasn't making any progress. By Thursday of vacation, I was started to wonder about going back to work on Monday (and thinking how miserable it was going to be to try to be an effective teacher while feeling like absolute crap.)

Friday morning, at around midnight, Fynn woke up screaming in the middle of the night. We had no idea why, but she ended up curling up in bed with me for a bit and rubbing my belly, which wasn't really unusual, but she was being weird about it. While she was laying with me, I felt a huge pain that kinda felt like I remembered contractions to be, but it also felt off. I put Fynn back to bed and realized I didn't feel great. I was crampy and felt achy. I tried going back to sleep, but had 2 more "contractions" within minutes of each other, so I decided to get up and time them. I told Drew I was heading downstairs, and in his half-asleep stupor he informed me that tonight wasn't a good night to have a baby "just saying". Duly noted.

Once I got downstairs I realized I felt even worse. I quickly downloaded a contraction timing app for my phone and started keeping track of the "contractions". Honestly, they didn't feel like contractions to me. They felt like I was having some type of food poisoning- way different than how I felt with Fynn. After about an hour of timing, I realized I had just had 6 contractions in 50 minutes... and they were ranging from 3-5 minutes apart. I knew I should probably call the doctor/Drew's parents, but I felt like I was overreacting... I didn't FEEL like this was labor.

Nevertheless, I went back upstairs and woke up Drew. He called his parents while I called the doctors office. While I waited for the doctor on call to call back, we started getting ready to go. We got dressed, threw last minute things into our suitcase, and changed the sheets on our bed so Drew's parents could sleep there when they arrived. For some reason, I grabbed a teeny-tiny preemie outfit that my mom had bought the week before. I had laughed when she gave it to me, but I figured he might be little like Fynn, so I brought it along.

As we waited for Drew's parent to show up (they live 35 minutes away), we scrambled to make the house look somewhat presentable. By we, I mean Drew ran around like crazy while I clung to the kitchen counter focusing on my breathing and trying not to keel over. This was definitely labor, and contractions were only 2 1/2- 3 minutes apart. I started to worry that Drew's parents wouldn't make it in time. Drew grabbed the car seat out of the other room (yep, still hadn't gotten it in the car), and I asked him if we could go wait in the car.

I'm not sure exactly what time his parents arrived, but by 2:40 we were in the car, on the way to the hospital. Between contractions I texted Drew's mom and was chugging water to avoid hydration because I did NOT want to have an IV this time for fluids. I remember laughing with Drew in the car saying that I was going to punch someone if we got to the hospital and found out I was only 3 cm along.

If only...

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