The bigger I get, the more questions people have. For the most part, I don't mind (but "How many are in there?!" will never be cute to me, just so we're clear), but if you think you're sick of waiting for me to whelp, just know that in no way, shape or form are you as irritated with how long this takes as I am. And my poor family... I caught myself criticizing the cat yesterday. Her looking at me was too much to take. The dog- who normally follows me everywhere anyways- has stationed herself SO CLOSE TO ME that I trip over her constantly. I stop myself from telling Genevieve not to breath when she eats. Or telling Olivia not to touch me or telling Shael that I'm not a jungle gym (just kidding, I'm regularly snapping at everyone to get their hands OFF OF ME). Or elbowing Shawn in bed because he's crowding me ("No, I'm not, you're just huge." The truth hurts.) I want everyone to leave me the crap alone, but would be really mad if they actually did.
My chiropractor has always been astonished at how low I'm carrying. Trust me, I'm astonished, too. All my babies have been low, but this one takes the cake. There is nothing quite like feeling someone else break-dance in your underwear. If I can feel it there, shouldn't this baby be crowning? Apparently not. So, I wait while it riverdances across my bladder and punches me in the cervix. Unfortunately with this child, since I am carrying so low, my tendons are strained all the way up the sides. It burns, and wraps around to my back. My chiro is a lovely lady, however, and does what she can to massage and loosen those ligaments. Also, as of yesterday, she wants to try to help me "get things moving". When she walked into the room, she had put her hands on her hips and said, "My God, you're even lower. How can you even walk?" She massaged a couple of key accupressure points to stimulate labor. I contracted all evening, but it stopped before bed. This is the way my last few months always go for me. You would think by #4, I would have this labor and delivery business all figured out, but I never know when I'm in labor. It takes many hours of what seem like Braxton-Hicks contractions. Sometimes they get painful enough to wake me up every ten minutes for hours-which should really mean it's true labor- but they mean nothing. When Olivia asks if I think I might be in labor, I just tell her that I don't know, but I do know that I won't miss it. Sure, some women wait too long or have really fast labors and accidentally birth at home, but that doesn't scare me. In fact, we were planning on a home birth until my OB doctor proved to be so incredibly awesome and laid-back that we realized we were going to be able to do everything the way we wanted to under his care (when we asked him if he would be our back up if we home-birthed, he said he absolutely would, and that he didn't blame us for wanting to birth at home, since medical establishments treat pregnancy like a disease and OB's interfere way too much). So, anyways, if I somehow miss the excruciating pain leading up to delivering my baby and accidentally birth at home, Shawn and the kids and I are all 100% fine with that. They all know more than they probably want to about this whole process. Sometimes, that's awesome- I know I'm teaching my daughters important aspects about pregnancy and childbirth that usually aren't discussed and can take young women by surprise. Olivia gets the giggles when I sneeze, because she' knows I probably just wet my pants. Genevieve is no longer startled if she catches me crying in the bathroom because I can't find my phone. Olivia tries not to be offended when I forget her in the church library and go to my class without her, because my brain no longer works. Shawn drives us everywhere, because even driving is too uncomfortable, and he's probably sick of hearing me grunt with every single move I make. I fall asleep as he drives and wake up choking on my tongue- multiple times. We had to stop at Target for super absorbent pads as I think ahead to postpartum. The other day he asked me if I had lost my mucous plug yet, and I mourned the innocence that our relationship has lost.
With us having four children, it's easy to forget that this is his first experience with a wife preparing for labor. A ready-made family and his 2nd deployment spared him all of this stuff in the past. He marvels over the tiny baby clothes that I've washed and hung in the closet- he's never really looked at newborn sized clothing. The little diapers don't seem real. Having Shawn around is an aspect will be new for me, too; with Olivia, my ex and I were young, dumb, and did not have a good relationship. By the time I was pregnant with Genevieve, we were separated. Both of those deliveries were terrible for those reasons, and also because I had horrible OB's that were completely insensitive and awful. For Shael, Shawn was deployed (thank heavens for my cousin Megan!). What will it be like to give birth with a supportive husband and doctor that I trust whole-heartedly? Sometimes, I think that he will be super sensitive, caring, and kind. Other times, I see his military side coming out, and I fear the worst.
Hopefully, I have a beautiful birth story and adorable baby pictures to share with you soon :)
