I'd say that Lucy's birth story started all the way back when I posted about my false-alarm to the hospital, on Thursday night into Friday. Even though I don't really like to think about the fact I went into labor and delivery, only to be sent home? It still happened.
But what it did confirm was that my body was indeed starting the process. During those few hours in the hospital I had dilated from a 1 to a 2+, and was getting decently tough contractions. However, about 4 hours later, I was still the same. Which is when the nurse told me it'd be better to go home and rest, enjoy what I can at home--and come back when things got really hard whenever that may be. I felt defeated because I was sure I was going to meet my baby soon. In fact, the doctor thought the same--but it just wasn't it.
It was then that I knew in my gut that we'd be meeting Lucy before the weekend was up. I didn't say that out loud. But, I just knew it in my mom heart.
That Friday morning (we got home at the wee hours of the AM), life went on as normal. We caught up on a bit of sleep, Declan went into work for a half day, and Emeline and I just hung out as usual, and I enjoyed her silliness. This girl has so much character, it kills me.
Knowing in my heart that this baby would be here soon definitely made me want to savor the last moments of just the three of us, or my time just with Eme.
That evening, we had a little family date to one of our favorite 'fancy' pizza places, where I timed contractions through the entire meal. Emeline was a dollface this whole time. I just remember smiling so many times, staring at this big girl, sitting in a big chair, hugging on her daddy, saying "I wuv you so much", and just being so...old. Feeling so blessed to be her mom.
I knew my contractions this night weren't 'it', but I also knew that these kind of episodes are obvious signs it was coming soon. We went home that night, put Emeline to bed, the contractions eased up after that. Good thing, because Eme came down with another 103* fever (she had one the previous day, too), and the night was spent with Declan & I up holding her, laying in bed with her, watching TV late with her, etc.
The next morning (Saturday), thankfully Emeline woke up a lot better. I was in hard-core Let's Have This Baby Mode because the next morning at 5am, my sister was leaving for camp for a week, and I could not bear the thought of her not being there soon after or around the time I had the baby. She's my best friend, and we're so close. I willed my body to go into labor already. I walked on the treadmill more. I cried. I bounced on the exercise ball. My body was giving me "signs" (without going into gruesome detail) that it was going to happen soon. I cried, why God, whyyyy, that the timing didn't seem like it would work out. But most of all I just prayed it would.
We went to the mall as a family, did lots of walking and shopping. I had contractions on and off all day. But nothing more than that.
That night my mom called and offered to take Emeline overnight. She said she just had a feeling I should take advantage of the sleep and rest up-heck, maybe even get in a last minute date with Declan. It took all of 3 seconds before we decided to take her up on that. Knowing full well she was probably right.
Within an hour she was settled at my parents and we were off to Bonefish for what would be our last date night before being parents of two. We ate, I had a bad contraction here and there, I was in a lot of pelvic pain/pressure, but other than that, things were pretty normal. We shopped a little after, got frozen yogurt, and then headed home.
When we got home we had plans to watch a movie or something--but I was just too physically tired from the last few days. I realized the time was dwindling and the likelihood I'd have this baby before 5am (when my sister left) was pretty much out of the question. Everything ached. I hurt. I was so tired of being pregnant. More so, tired of the games it felt like my body was playing on me. I was sad that my sister would be away when it happened, most likely. Most of all-I questioned God's timing a little.
I tossed and turned A LOT that night. I just had this anxiousness like it was going to happen. I remember praying, pleading with God to let me get some sleep, but my brain just wouldn't shut off.
Eventually sometime after midnight, I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be rudely awaken at 3am by the harshest contractions I've felt yet.
I didn't wake Declan...I just laid, and timed them--for hours. They were consistent, and I'd have really, really harsh ones that lasted 2 minutes, but then get smaller little 30 second ones in between.
Around 5am or so I decided to get up and take a shower. I knew we were going to head into the hospital, because surely, I could not mistake it this time. At this point is where I woke Declan to let him know & he decided to get up and shower to be ready whenever I made the call to go.
We had breakfast, because I'm no idiot--you don't want to go into the hospital on an empty stomach if you can help it. By 8am we were headed back to L&D for yet again, another unexpected twist on this journey of meeting our sweet Lucy...
(Part two coming soon. I hope. It's getting too long! I'm a details person. I promise to conclude it with part 2, though ;))
sorry, I lied...it will be 3 parts--sue me!