|October 2, 2013||Posted by Lisa under Uncategorized|
Alice was born at 40w3d. She had to be kicked out with pitocin and an 11 hour labor. Her brother seems to be equally comfortable. Tomorrow I’ll be more pregnant than I’ve ever been.
Baby boy hasn’t made his appearance yet, but it looks like his entrance into the world is imminent. George is antsy, Alice has no clue aside from being excited that her Gamma will come stay with her for a couple of days very soon. I bounce between being super excited, being super nostalgic, being super sore so that I can’t think about anything else, being ambivalent, being tired of it all… Das Hormones. It’s serious shit, y’all.
I am on every other day visits to the OB. Today I had a non stress test and a biophysical profile on the baby. Everything looks awesome. They said I had the placenta of a 20w pregnancy (very healthy looking), plenty of amniotic fluid, baby is measuring perfectly, he’s making breathing movements. I have no swelling, my blood pressure is great, and I actually feel pretty incredible (other than the head in my crotch. That sucks. Unpleasant. Understatement.) I’m 4cm dilated, 85% effaced, baby is at a -1. He scored an 8 of 8 on his biophysical test.
I am so proud of my body. I’ve been having contractions on and off for over 2 weeks and I am almost halfway fully dilated. That’s 4 LESS cm that I have to go through active labor in without meds. After 20 years of having difficulties and limitations with my body because of my spinal fusion, it seems I’ve found something that my body is really, really good at. And it’s something that is pretty damned impressive. I make babies, and my body slowly and steadily prepares itself for their exit. Hearing all of the great news today made me so happy and invigorated after being a bit disappointed when my due date came and went… and when George’s birthday came and went the day after.
My body is doing exactly as it should be, at it’s own pace. Beautiful.
My body cannot prepare me for the emotional upheaval of adding an entire person to my life. A person to have and to hold, to nurse and cuddle and love and worry over. Nothing can prepare me for that. So I’ll concentrate on getting him out, safe and sound, and then I’ll dig in to the work of my life. To mother another precious baby, nurture his relationship with his sister, and sit in awe at the miracle that George and I get to play a part in. Again.