A Tale of Two Mommies

…because more seems excessive…

Adventures in Labor, Part I

My intention was to wait until the Warrior Queen arrived and describe the ordeal in a one time and succinct post, preserving the experience without droning on about how frustrated and annoyed I am at this moment, but, alas, the need to vent and whine to an audience won at this early hour.

Technically, I’ve been in the throws of early labor since Monday, and I can’t believe this time hole is only just beginning its fourth day.  Sounds dramatic, right?  Like, whoa, she will be here any time…  Yeah, at this point I think this will turn into that documentary I saw years ago with that African woman who was “pregnant” for forty years.

I haven’t experienced this process until now.  With my son I joined the ranks of the rare eight percent whose water breaks before contractions begin.  After twelve hours, I was induced because they never got on the stick.  This is miserable, but not because I’m in much pain.  It’s this halting of progress that is getting to me, and I’m forced to send angry texts all day to friends and read into body signals desperately hoping for some sign that this will happen before God retires.

I had two appointments anyway Monday when I awoke at 3.15 in the morning to contractions.  I knew they were irregular, so I wouldn’t have made the trip otherwise, but part of the plethora of appointments I experience includes a test that notes contractions…I had three in twenty minutes, so you know they will be checking on my lady part progress now that I’m thirty-seven weeks.  There was progress, but they sent me home because not enough…lovely…  The contractions stopped, and I entered day two of early labor waiting room hell.

Contractions came back for three hours in the morning, stronger and more consistent; too far apart, and they were done.  We’ll keep this clean, but it prompted another litany of angry texts to friends and a general poor demeanor toward my husband.

Next day:  contractions only last two hours, but my husband stopped ignoring my cranky attitude.  Mostly, he just noted that I was in a bad mood because when you are in early labor it seems those living with you who aren’t children give you a pass for behaving unpleasantly.  But, in case any of my readers are in the position of sharing this thrilling experience with another, a good rule of thumb is refrain from saying that this will end soon.  If I didn’t know that I would need his help once this eventually concludes, he might not live to tell another tale of “My wife is pregnant” woe.

But, unlike the previous day, my daughter appeared somewhat desperate to leave her current living arrangements…clearly not desperate enough…  While I’ve grown quite accustomed to a large and strong mass pushing against my belly, elbows and knees attempting to force their way through the barrier of my body is a new and fairly painful experience.  I figure this will either be a vaginal delivery or she will be appearing through my stomach Alien style.

Since noon yesterday I had intermittent vague crampy feelings that never materialized into anything, but alluded to the possibility that maybe I would have more than two hours of contractions that didn’t yield much.  No dice.

I can’t believe I’m just entering the fourth day of this, but it hasn’t been that much time…chronologically…  Last night I slept better than I have since I’ve been pregnant.  Starting at 2.30 in the morning when I journeyed to the restroom once again I felt the onset of contractions that changed their mind, noting that I preferred to sleep at that moment.  The same thing happened at four.  Feeling unusually rested, I was up and about at five.  We’ll see what the day brings, but I envision many more angry, bitter texts to friends…

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2 responses to “Adventures in Labor, Part I

  1. Sandra MacKay April 14, 2016 at 6:38 am

    Hi Allison,

    Don’t know what to say that could help so I won’t. But I do care and wish there were a way I could help. In the meantime, sending hugs. And you can be as cranky as you need to be. It’s o.k.

    Hugs,

    Sandra

    Like

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