I woke up at 6 a.m. with a monster contraction. They continued pretty consistently throughout the morning, and I started writing down the times at 9:09. The confusing thing was the little contractions (or "aftershocks," as I was calling them) between the big ones. Did they all count? Or should I just count the big ones?
I tried calling my doctor's office to ask a nurse. When I couldn't get through to the front desk or the nurse's desk, I called the hospital instead. The labor and delivery nurse I spoke to said I ought to count the big ones. They were still 10 minutes apart, so I busied myself doing dishes, organizing the tupperware shelf in the cupboard, starting laundry, tidying up the baby's room (Miriam had pulled a bunch of books out of the bookshelf earlier), charging my cell phone and camera battery ... you know ... all the important things a mom needs to do while in labor.
At 10:30, I decided if I was, in fact, in the early stages of labor, we could all still visit Grandpa Wirkus. (There was no school today due to inservice.) So I got the girls in the van and drove to his house.
Rebekah found a praying mantis in his back yard. Analee ate five miniature candy bars. Miriam played with her hairless Belle doll and Terrence. My contractions got further apart, but consistently stronger.
Grandpa offered to treat us all to Arctic Circle, so we loaded back up in the van and enjoyed cheeseburgers, fries, chocolate milk and Halloween flashlights.
After dropping him back off at home, I took the girls to our house and attempted to put Miriam down for a nap. Analee and I read The Giving Tree and played Trivial Pursuit (which is interesting with a 5-year-old). By this time, my contractions were so painful I was wishing for an epidural. I've never had non-Pitocin contractions so blasted strong.
I called the doctor's office again and talked to a nurse, who said if the contractions were that strong and had been going on for so long (despite them lengthening out), I might want to go in. I called Seth and told him not to speed home. I called my mom and arranged to drop the big girls off at their soon-to-be home that was getting carpeted.
We got to the hospital around 3 p.m. I was in bed decked out in my hospital gown and hooked up to monitors by 3:30. By that time, I was a 6 or 7. The blessed anesthesiologist gave me my blessed epidural, and in a short while, I finished dilating, my doctor arrived, she broke my water, and I pushed.
Our beautiful dark-haired baby arrived at 5:41 p.m. She is 6 pounds, 5 ounces and 19 inches long. I pushed through one contraction and got a tiny first-degree laceration.
Gwendolen's happy, healthy and gorgeous. She's now sleeping in her plastic bed in our postpartum room while sporting a giant Halloween-colored bow on her head. Seth is back at home with the big girls. And I'm reveling in the post-delivery happy hormones as a mother of four.
