with one week to go...

I'm officially 39 weeks pregnant and it's kind of funny to see the reactions on people's faces when I tell them that I'm due "next weekend". Hee.

I don't think I've "dropped" yet. I'm not waddling or icing my back for sciatica or anything like that. I am, however, having a bit of difficulty sleeping. Not because of discomfort, but because once I wake up, I can't settle my mind back down.

Labor looms.

You see, I'm super duper ultra incredibly whole-heartedly determined to birth this baby without a bunch of medically unnecessary interventions. I keep telling people that sure, if my L&D had gone smoothly last time, epidural included, I'd probably be on board to do it again that way.

But it didn't.

With Sadie, I labored at home for something like 16 hours - from waking up at 4 am with the most intense cramping I've ever felt to progressing to the point of vomiting after really big contractions by about 2 PM. By 8:00 that night I decided to go in - mostly thinking that getting an IV for hydration would be wise. To say that I was discouraged to learn that I'd only dilated 3 cm when I finally did check in is a gross understatement. I didn't realize that my mind and body would freeze up and "stop" my labor once I got crossed the threshold of the automatic doors at the hospital.

Let me tell you that being told at 6:00 AM - after 24 hours of laboring successfully with Andrew and our awesome doula - that I was "no longer in active labor" and my "choices were A) go home or B) get induced to get labor going again" was not cool.
I now know with firsthand experience that first babies normally, naturally and typically take a really really long time. Oh, how I wish I'd had the wisdom and fearlessness to say really? you want me to go home or let you pump me full of chemicals that will give me artificial and insanely, mind-bogglingly more painful, artificial "contractions"?! Okay, see ya! and walked out the door.

But, alas.

I was 12 days "late", and scheduled for what I thought was a mandatory induction in less than 48 hours anyway. I caved and let them start the pitocin drip. I still can't adequately describe the blinding and utterly shocking difference in the quality and quantity of pain I experienced between my own, natural contractions, and the ones that kept coming wave after wave through that little plastic tube into my arm. I lasted about 2 hours on that before starting to vomit again. And again. And again.

Frustration times a million. Tears. Profanity. White-knuckling the tray I was bent over for support. Defeat.

Epidural. (after 2 unsuccessful attempts - don't even get me started on that)

Brief numbness. 2 hour nap. Needed that. Wake up to dead, heavy legs and pain, pain, pain in my abdomen at every contraction (which are coming one after another now, as they cranked up the pitocin while I was asleep) Unable to move or change my position was surreal. Almost claustrophobic in a way. Not to mention frightening as the pain progressed and the staff tried to figure out what to do. It's not a good feeling knowing that the head of Anesthesia has been called for a conference in the hallway outside your room.

Talk of C-Section. But how to numb me? I have a well-documented but rare, funky allergy to anesthesia(s) - specifically one used in "quick/emergency type surgeries". Anesthesiologist has concocted a special serum just for me, just for this scenario.
But I don't want a C-Section. No.

Andrew almost shouts, Everyone can just STOP saying C-Section RIGHT NOW.

I love my husband. Oh how I love my husband.

Meanwhile, my mom has been insisting that someone check my progress for several hours, to no avail.

Can't I push yet? Will someone please check me to see if I can push yet?
Finally someone checks. "Oh, she's at 10." Looks at me, surprised for some reason. "Would you like to try pushing on your next contra-"

YYYYEEEEESSSS! And Sadie emerged at 9 and a half pounds about an hour later. Indescribable relief, exhaustion.
And love at first sight, of course.

So, yeah. Labor looms. In both good and bad ways.

I think I'm equal parts eager/excited and anxious/worried. I'm trying hard to find time each day to calm my mind and think deeply on the fact that I can do this. It's just too bad that these moments seem to come in the middle of the night when I wake up to roll over or get up to go to the bathroom...again. The variables attributed to second and subsequent births make it hard for me to feel totally confident and prepared, but I'm working on it.

I know that I'm not reinventing the wheel. I love the simple, beautiful fact that millions upon millions of women have done and continue to do this every single hour of every single day all over the world. (just not-so-much in America! the stats on birth in this country are astounding, but I won't get into that)
Suffice it to say that I only know a handful of women in my own social circle who have done it. So to me, in a way, it's a prestigious club that I admit - I want to join.
Yeah, I've heard the whole "you don't get a medal" rationale, and I already know not to allow myself to feel like a failure if I don't manage to do it, but still...

I really, really, want to. That's all there is to it.