On one hand he can't possibly be that old already; on the other, hasn't he always been here?
It's almost scary how normal the craziness of having three boys seems already. But that's another post (and it may take another month--or more--to get it out!).
So here it is, finally, the story of John Paul's birth. If you're not a fan of all the details of labor and delivery (bodily fluids abound, and I'm not afraid to talk about them), I'd recommend skipping this one. Here are a couple more pictures from the past month to make this post worth your while anyway :)
 |
| Just over a week old |
 |
| Three happy brothers |
 |
| All of my boys |
 |
| Totally smitten, on both sides |
Okay, now for the story! (Last chance to leave!)
Ever since the crazy-strong (or so I thought) Braxton Hicks contractions started up right around 20 weeks, I was sure JP would come before his due date of March 12. Right at 37 weeks I started willing those contractions to be meaningful with all my might, but to no avail. And then I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of the start of the real thing... and then they would taper off. Hmmm, this was sounding familiar... but at least I went early and fast with Liam and so maybe this was all a good sign? Nope and nope.
Yes, this was my third baby in less than four years and I still can't remember the difference between Braxton Hicks and real contractions until suddenly the real contractions hit and I'm all like "Oh, right, this is what labor feels like! I want the BH contractions back..." If God blesses us with more children I'm sure I'll go through the whole routine of false alarms for weeks each and every time.
March 12th came and went. I was trying everything short of castor oil (because, ew) and eating a whole pineapple (because I couldn't find any) to get labor going. I was drinking gallons (maybe not quite, but it felt like it) of red raspberry leaf tea so that when labor did get going my lazy-third-time-around-uterus (according to my OB) would do its job nice and efficiently. I was trying not to panic about getting the boys to my in-laws and us to the hospital and everything happening in a perfectly timed manner without having the baby in the car (even though we're only five minutes from the hospital). Turns out I didn't need to worry about not having enough time!
I woke up around 2:30am the morning of March 13th and realized I was having contractions. Nothing intense or even regular, but contractions! Lying down! This must be it! Because, of course, this is how it started with Liam, and even though every pregnancy/labor/baby is different, still this had to be it. So I tried my best to sleep some more, knowing that I would need my rest. I dozed a bit, but the contractions were distracting and I was getting excited despite my best efforts not to. At some point I went to the bathroom and saw some bloody show. Again, just like with Liam. Things were definitely on track now (and I was expecting a lightning-fast labor once things really kicked into gear... good thing the hospital was so close!). I finally gave up on sleep and got up to have some breakfast and putter around the house taking care of some last minute things.
When Alex's alarm went off at 5:20 I told him I didn't think he should go into work, and asked him how he would like to meet John Paul that day? We both tried to get some more rest, waiting for a slightly more reasonable hour to call Alex's mom and put her on alert.
Cici came over around 7 and the three of us sat around and visited while we waited for Michael and Liam to wake up. My contractions were all over the place--anywhere from 8 to 20 minutes apart, and while we sat around they seemed to stop altogether. Cici took the boys home with her when they woke up anyway--we were all just willing John Paul to come.
That whole day I willed my body to go into active labor. Alex and I took several walks around the neighborhood (it was a gorgeous day, thankfully!). I bounced on the birth ball. And bounced. And bounced. I took a nap. I had some quality time with the breast pump. I finished up the sourdough bread I'd set to rise the night before and washed every dish almost as soon as it had been used so we would leave behind a clean kitchen when we finally went to the hospital. And still contractions were never closer than 6 minutes, never regular, often stopping for an hour or more at a time, and uncomfortable but not intense. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), it was a loooooong day. And throughout it all I missed Michael and Liam so much. I felt guilty for keeping Alex home from work and sending the boys away when it was apparently just a false alarm, and I was worried about how many more days like this there might before JP was finally forced into the world via the induction scheduled for the following Thursday.
Finally around 8pm I called our nurse advice line. I didn't think it was time to go the hospital yet, but the last few times I used the bathroom there was more blood than I thought there should be (I don't remember bleeding at all either time before--until the end, obviously) and so I wanted to check in. The nurse wasn't at all concerned about the blood, but she called back a few minutes later to suggest we head for the hospital. She had looked more closely at my chart and realized that I was GBS positive, and since this was my 3rd and things would (obviously!) potentially move quickly, she wanted me at the hospital in plenty of time for my two doses of penicillin.
Hooray! All I had wanted all day was to know for sure that it was time to head for the hospital--a certainty which my thoroughly irregular contractions had been denying me. So we had a snack, grabbed the few things not already packed in our bag, and headed to the hospital.
Since it was late we entered through the ER. I don't think anyone there believed I was in labor ("Hi, I'm here to have a baby." "Okay, an induction?" "Um, no, I'm in labor.") but eventually we got signed in and headed up to Labor & Delivery. We got settled in our little triage cubicle, assuming we'd only be there for a few minutes before being moved to a room. Well. When the nurse came in to check me, I was only 2 cm dilated, and my cervix was still very thick. Excuse me? I've been having contractions all day and I am only at a 2? I definitely teared up. She said they would keep us for an hour and reevaluate then.
So we waited in that horrid little cubicle on that horrid little uncomfortable bed hooked up to the horrid monitors (okay, not that bad really, but I was upset). And I didn't have any contractions. So they sent us home. And you know what bugged me the most about it? That nurse wasn't even the slightest bit sympathetic! I would like to think that if I were a L&D nurse I would at least make an attempt to be sympathetic when sending home a woman who thought she was in labor. Harrumph.
And then we had to walk past the nursery to get to the elevator to leave. I lost it (quietly). Here I was, thinking I had been in labor, only 2 cm dilated, being sent home to be pregnant forever this baby is never coming out, and I had to walk past everyone else's newborns? I managed not to sob until we were safely in the elevator.
So we went home. And now I'm going to do something which I hate when I'm reading other people's birth stories, and leave you with a nice old to be continued, because #3 is yelling for a meal, and #2 is trying to help me type this, and #1 just woke up from his nap and doesn't sound too happy about it. So, to be continued... sorry...
Update: Part II!
When Alex's alarm went off at 5:20 I told him I didn't think he should go into work, and asked him how he would like to meet John Paul that day? We both tried to get some more rest, waiting for a slightly more reasonable hour to call Alex's mom and put her on alert.
Cici came over around 7 and the three of us sat around and visited while we waited for Michael and Liam to wake up. My contractions were all over the place--anywhere from 8 to 20 minutes apart, and while we sat around they seemed to stop altogether. Cici took the boys home with her when they woke up anyway--we were all just willing John Paul to come.
That whole day I willed my body to go into active labor. Alex and I took several walks around the neighborhood (it was a gorgeous day, thankfully!). I bounced on the birth ball. And bounced. And bounced. I took a nap. I had some quality time with the breast pump. I finished up the sourdough bread I'd set to rise the night before and washed every dish almost as soon as it had been used so we would leave behind a clean kitchen when we finally went to the hospital. And still contractions were never closer than 6 minutes, never regular, often stopping for an hour or more at a time, and uncomfortable but not intense. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), it was a loooooong day. And throughout it all I missed Michael and Liam so much. I felt guilty for keeping Alex home from work and sending the boys away when it was apparently just a false alarm, and I was worried about how many more days like this there might before JP was finally forced into the world via the induction scheduled for the following Thursday.
Finally around 8pm I called our nurse advice line. I didn't think it was time to go the hospital yet, but the last few times I used the bathroom there was more blood than I thought there should be (I don't remember bleeding at all either time before--until the end, obviously) and so I wanted to check in. The nurse wasn't at all concerned about the blood, but she called back a few minutes later to suggest we head for the hospital. She had looked more closely at my chart and realized that I was GBS positive, and since this was my 3rd and things would (obviously!) potentially move quickly, she wanted me at the hospital in plenty of time for my two doses of penicillin.
Hooray! All I had wanted all day was to know for sure that it was time to head for the hospital--a certainty which my thoroughly irregular contractions had been denying me. So we had a snack, grabbed the few things not already packed in our bag, and headed to the hospital.
Since it was late we entered through the ER. I don't think anyone there believed I was in labor ("Hi, I'm here to have a baby." "Okay, an induction?" "Um, no, I'm in labor.") but eventually we got signed in and headed up to Labor & Delivery. We got settled in our little triage cubicle, assuming we'd only be there for a few minutes before being moved to a room. Well. When the nurse came in to check me, I was only 2 cm dilated, and my cervix was still very thick. Excuse me? I've been having contractions all day and I am only at a 2? I definitely teared up. She said they would keep us for an hour and reevaluate then.
So we waited in that horrid little cubicle on that horrid little uncomfortable bed hooked up to the horrid monitors (okay, not that bad really, but I was upset). And I didn't have any contractions. So they sent us home. And you know what bugged me the most about it? That nurse wasn't even the slightest bit sympathetic! I would like to think that if I were a L&D nurse I would at least make an attempt to be sympathetic when sending home a woman who thought she was in labor. Harrumph.
And then we had to walk past the nursery to get to the elevator to leave. I lost it (quietly). Here I was, thinking I had been in labor, only 2 cm dilated, being sent home to be pregnant forever this baby is never coming out, and I had to walk past everyone else's newborns? I managed not to sob until we were safely in the elevator.
So we went home. And now I'm going to do something which I hate when I'm reading other people's birth stories, and leave you with a nice old to be continued, because #3 is yelling for a meal, and #2 is trying to help me type this, and #1 just woke up from his nap and doesn't sound too happy about it. So, to be continued... sorry...
Update: Part II!
