The Perfect Birthday Story.

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One year ago today
I was waiting.
And waiting.
Impatiently.
Uncomfortably.  

Why is it that the week or two before your due date time seems to stop?  Or even go backwards?  Luke thought it would be funny to stir up some fun contractions that would send me into a “This is it!” panic/excitement frenzy.  A few times.

It wasn’t funny.

April 19th I went in for a visit and got my membranes stripped.  Sounds gross.  It’s not really, a little uncomfortable maybe.  I left feeling crampy and mad that the baby hadn’t just fallen out.  And nothing happened for the next 14 hours.  The waiting was the worst.

I went to bed at 11.  11:30 I was in that drowsy stupor when I was suddenly jolted awake by a most painful contraction.  It felt like I had to rush to the bathroom or else my bum would fall out.  A minute later it was gone and all was normal.  I went back to bed.

BAM!  Again, the pain returned in full force about two minutes later.    And again I jumped out of bed and walked around, breathing through the contraction.  I started to time them.  After an hour, they were consistently two minutes apart and I knew it definitely WAS time.  We drove to the hospital.

I was a 6.  If you don’t know what that means, I’m not going to tell you.  “Kudos for laboring at home!” The nurses said.  Yes, kudos to me for the whole hour I spent trying to determine if it was real or another bout of false labor.

At about 7 am, my precious baby entered the world.  And I felt close to death…so exhausted from not sleeping and pushing his giant man-head out an unearthly sized hole in my body.  But I did it, I had the baby.

And it was the perfect experience.  

And today I’m throwing table scraps to my rugrat while I type up this post.  I’m a Class Act Mom.