I started writing a bit about one of my favorite things yesterday...pregnancy.
I love telling stories about the times I was expecting a wee one--what fantastic memories!
My children all seemed to love that time of incubation because most of them came late! (Maybe that explains why they still tend to be late for everything!) JohnPaul actually arrived right on my predicted due date! And JP is the only one who is always ready to go out the door when he is supposed to. He also had the decency to come at a convenient time...I had an OB/GYN visit in the afternoon that day. Dr. G said I was slightly dilated (I was the previous week, too), so I didn't really expect much to happen.
On the drive home, the contractions started, and I began to think: hmmm, could this be it? I had to pick my kids up from school soon after, so I stopped by the grocery store and got ground beef so I could make them hamburgers. By the time I got the kids and was standing at the stovetop, forming patties, I was almost sure this was the real deal.
I called Mom and told her that I might need her...like...SOON...and then I called John at work. He got home around 5:00, Mom arrived soon afterwards, and we got all my stuff together. We got to the hospital around 7:00-7:30, and he made his arrival at 8:30!
No matter how many babies I had, when I got to the point of labor known as 'transition', I ALWAYS wondered why I had let myself get into this! If you've been through transition, then you probably know just what I'm talking about. If you've never had a baby, then let me tell you something about it.
Transition is the point of labor that takes every strand of strength a woman has to endure. Not that she has a choice! The contractions intensify in power as well as in frequency. Just when a mom to be is about to throw in the towel, transition takes labor up a notch...or maybe a dozen notches. I can remember begging, bargaining with John, "I just want to take a break. I need to sleep. I wish I could just go home!" My eyes would plead with him...'Mercy, mercy, clemency...save me!'. He'd stand there like a tower in a storm, and I knew if I held on, I'd make it to dry land eventually.
This is where it is valuable to have a good husband! John was my strength when all mine was spent. He would put his face right in mine, and urge me to persevere. He would cheer me on: "Annie! You can do this!"
Regrettably, with my first labor, poor John's thumb was near my mouth at this point, and my teeth found it. It wasn't that I meant to bite down! It was all instinct! Just a reflex! Seriously. In subsequent labors, I kept a washcloth nearby to bite down on! :)
I carried all my babies the same way: like a basketball under my clothes! So much for the thing about carrying boys and girls differently. When I was expecting Maria, nothing was different, so I had no idea I was about to deliver a girl after having three boys. I'll always treasure the moment I first saw my daughter: she was seashell pink, with the most delicate hands and feet! Her hair looked like it was spun of fine gold thread.
I hope you liked these musings...more to come later.
HUGSxxxAnnie
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