Still Holding
I’m still in a holding pattern here. I thought for sure I was going into labor yesterday morning, when I was rudely awakened by persistently strong and consistent contractions for several hours, but a trip to the bathroom later in the morning warded off all signs of labor, for the most part. Eric took the day off, unfortunately, because we were so sure I was going into labor; as punishment for not going into labor, he took me on a brisk-paced three-mile walk, hoping to force my uterus into submission. The only thing that punishment did was ensure I slept for two hours solid in the afternoon. Sorry, honey. No baby yet.
I have been having lots of prelabor contractions, where I actually have to stop and do some breathing and relaxation techniques to stay composed. They come about three times an hour. It’s amazing how strong Braxton-Hicks contractions get with each pregnancy. Some friends have recommended natural herbs, black and blue cohosh, for getting labor started, so we actually went out and got the stuff, but after doing some Internet research, I’ve decided to talk to the doctor first. Though Native American midwives have been using the herbs for centuries, it’s still such an unknown, and I’m not ready to throw my child under the bus, so to speak, just to have him out. Really, he’s not even late yet; he’s just late in my mind. He should’ve made his entrance three or four weeks ago, I’m thinking.
So I go in Thursday morning for my last OB visit, and this is where I’ll find out whether or not she’s going to recommend starting me on a bit of pitosin for induction purposes. There’s a small risk with induction for starting labor, too, like herbal-induction methods, as well as a small risk with c-section and with VBAC. I guess labor is a small risk, period, no matter how you look at it, so I better just get used to it. This might help you understand why I start making premortem funeral arrangements with my husband in the days before delivery. I begin reminding him that if something were ever to happen to me, I want our kids to have a mommy…that is, a good mommy. I know the humor is a bit dark here -- sorry, Mom -- but anytime I go into the hospital for an extended stay, I lean a bit heavier on the foreboding side of the coin. I mean, look at the Biblical example of Rachel. You just never know. I trust in His sovereign will for my life; I trust that He’s numbered my days and that I cannot change that number; I just don’t know what that number may be.
Has anyone else ever experienced this premortem phenomenon right before going into labor? It’s probably just me.
I have been having lots of prelabor contractions, where I actually have to stop and do some breathing and relaxation techniques to stay composed. They come about three times an hour. It’s amazing how strong Braxton-Hicks contractions get with each pregnancy. Some friends have recommended natural herbs, black and blue cohosh, for getting labor started, so we actually went out and got the stuff, but after doing some Internet research, I’ve decided to talk to the doctor first. Though Native American midwives have been using the herbs for centuries, it’s still such an unknown, and I’m not ready to throw my child under the bus, so to speak, just to have him out. Really, he’s not even late yet; he’s just late in my mind. He should’ve made his entrance three or four weeks ago, I’m thinking.
So I go in Thursday morning for my last OB visit, and this is where I’ll find out whether or not she’s going to recommend starting me on a bit of pitosin for induction purposes. There’s a small risk with induction for starting labor, too, like herbal-induction methods, as well as a small risk with c-section and with VBAC. I guess labor is a small risk, period, no matter how you look at it, so I better just get used to it. This might help you understand why I start making premortem funeral arrangements with my husband in the days before delivery. I begin reminding him that if something were ever to happen to me, I want our kids to have a mommy…that is, a good mommy. I know the humor is a bit dark here -- sorry, Mom -- but anytime I go into the hospital for an extended stay, I lean a bit heavier on the foreboding side of the coin. I mean, look at the Biblical example of Rachel. You just never know. I trust in His sovereign will for my life; I trust that He’s numbered my days and that I cannot change that number; I just don’t know what that number may be.
Has anyone else ever experienced this premortem phenomenon right before going into labor? It’s probably just me.
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