It all started on Wednesday, September 28th. My due date. The date I had engraved in my head for the past nine months. The date I must've used as an answer over a hundred times when asked about her impending arrival. The day I was supposed to meet my daughter.
I woke up as anxious as ever that morning but I also knew there was no way she'd come since I hadn't really had any signs pointing in that direction. Up to that point, I had only had some minor cramping once in awhile - but nothing painful at all, a few Braxton Hicks contractions here and there - but none that I'd ever think twice about timing, and then some changes in the "flow" of things "down there" - but they say that can happen weeks before baby actually arrives and that it's not a good indicator of labor starting.
So I really thought she'd just make me wait forever and I'd have to get induced.
Something I wholeheartedly did not want to have happen but I just felt so completely normal and "fine". Definitely not like I was going to push something out of my uterus anytime soon. So I went about my day as normal.
I cleaned, I went grocery shopping for some last minute things at Wegman's (where my cashier lady proceeded to almost faint after asking when I was due and hearing me reply "today"), I answered a billion texts from friends and family asking how I was doing, I wrote her a little due date letter, I cleaned some more, and then cleaned some more, and then the day was over and Trevor and I were on the couch snuggling, eating dinner, and watching Modern Family per usual.
I did end up taking an evening primrose oil that I had gotten at Wegman's, though. That was about the only thing I did differently than any other day. It's supposed to help thin you out, and while I have no idea if it actually did that for me or if it was just a coincidence... I ended up going into labor that night, only a couple hours after I had gone to bed and several after taking that pill.
I woke up at 1:30am to what felt like the beginning of a period cramps. Or basically what felt like the aftermath of eating dairy if you're lactose intolerant haha. They weren't horrible by any means but they were definitely there being the uncomfortable little pains in the you know whats that they are. This had happened to me a couple other nights in the last couple weeks but I would just end up going to the bathroom, falling back asleep, and then they'd be gone.
This time that didn't happen, though.
I went to the bathroom and got back in bed, but couldn't fall back asleep because they were still there. So I started timing them. I whipped out my phone, hid under the covers so my screen's light wouldn't wake up Trev, and used one of my pregnancy apps to see how far apart they were.
At that point they were kind of all over the place but for the most part 45 seconds long and 7 to 10 minutes apart. I laid in bed timing for probably an hour or so before I finally got up and moved to the couch. I just knew at that point that this was probably it since I had never had contractions that were persistent or time-able. Nor had I had the pressure-like pain down in my booty area before. And oh that mother effing pressure. More to come on that...
By 4:00am they were getting more painful, lasting about a minute, and were five minutes apart, so I called my midwife. My OBGYN's rule was 5-1-1 aka contractions that are five minutes apart that last for a minute long, happening for an hour straight.
After I got her on the phone she told me it was more about the intensity of the contractions, though, rather than the timing of them and that I should come into the hospital as soon as I felt like they were starting to get harder to breath and talk through. So I sat on the couch some more, ate a strawberry yogurt with granola, chugged water like a kid caught in the desert, turned on A Bug's Life (what's more comforting than a Pixar movie, am I right?) and finally decided to wake Trevor up around 5:30am.
I went into the bedroom and gently nudged him awake. He was groggy and confused and asked what was wrong, to which I whispered "I think we're going to have a baby today." Not in a million years did I think that it would play out as calmly and nonchalant like that but I'm so glad it did.
After that I decided I was going to take a shower and put on some makeup - something I strongly suggest if you have the time and/or are feeling okay enough to do so. Carrying out my little "getting ready" routine took my mind off of everything that was about to happen just enough to keep me calm. Plus not going into the labor and delivery unit looking like a washed up zombie who only got two hours of sleep and is about to push a watermelon out of her vag definitely makes you feel a little better about yourself. I must have put on six different outfits after getting out of the shower, though. The weatherman decided it was going to pour that day which put a kink in my plans and absolutely NOTHING felt comfortable on me.
I finally settled on the black and gray pajama-like cami dress from Target that I wore all.pregnancy.long and the gray cardigan that everyone and their mother's damn dentist ordered from the Nordstrom anniversary sale. The perfect outfit to keep any extra pressure off of the bottom portion of my body that was already feeling SO much of that already.
We hung out on the couch a little more, Trev loaded up on coffee and was happy to be up early enough to get to see a hot sauce eating contest on Mike and Mike on ESPN (don't ask), he packed up all of our stuff into the car in between asking me a billion times how I was doing as well as cleaning up anything left out of place (bless him for that and knowing how much I would've hated coming home to a mess) and by 7:30am I decided it was definitely time to go to the hospital.
We kissed Pudge goodbye at the door, piled into the car, and were finally on our way to meet our baby girl!