I thought she would never arrive. For real. I mean, they tell you to enjoy those last few days and that you won't be pregnant forever. Let me tell you though that at eleven - ELEVEN - days overdue, you really do feel like the baby is stuck in there for good or was sleeping when the How To Leave The Womb baby instincts were handed out. I also did what I sagely advise every single first-time mom friend not to do which was to allow myself the hope that I might possibly maybe be early. So of course that means when your helpful phone app tells you, hey, you're 37 weeks and you could pop at any time, you say oh, I know it probably won't happen but mayyyyyybeeeee it will! . This led me to feel like I was waiting for an eternity and beyond. Of course, the classic encouraging "ANY DAY NOW!", "WOAH! IS THAT BABY GONNA FALL OUT ON THE FLOOR!" "ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH CHURCH!", "ARE YOU HAVING TRIPLETS!", "HAVE YOU TRIED JUMPING ON A TRAMPOLINE WHILE EATING SPICY FOOD UPSIDE-DOWN YET?" comments were not helping.
At any rate, when labor did start, it was the strangest labor so far. I was sitting there with a friend panting a picture for my bedroom when I felt something that definitely seemed like the real thing! Imminent baby arrival! I even kept painting for a while to make sure I wasn't jumping the gun. When it got to the point where it was literally painful to carry on a conversation, Matt and my friend were all, "time to call the midwife, lady!" (It was just like the show only less British!) The midwives came and checked and it seemed that nothing was was really happening. Call back when contractions were closer together, they said. Get some rest, they said. So I tried to sleep and no luck. Things were bizarrely painful for contractions that didn't seem to be getting any closer together. This went on all night. The next day, I decided I felt bad keeping Matt home from work if this wasn't the real thing. So off to work he went and my friend came back to stay with me because I was too in pain and nervous to be alone. After a lot of Friday Night Lights episodes, things were only getting more painful and I could no longer move because that seemed to put the baby in a position that simultaneously put me into more contractions and made my tailbone feel like it was stabbing me. Fun times! By two pm, it had gotten to the point where I had to have a big crybaby meltdown because I was in so much pain, which would be fine if things were moving along but if this was going to carry on for days, I didn't know what I would do. The thought of drugs was starting to sound really good. I was doing everything you were supposed to do and trying to stay calm and breathe and yadda yadda, and I was starting to lose it. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! It was supposed to be a speedy, peaceful home birth and progress like the last time. I called the midwife to see what kind of magic she could conjure up to help me cope. She said I sounded pretty exhausted and was starting to talk about the option of me going to the hospital to get some morphine, if things weren't moving along. My inner hippie must have heard that because I started to get the contractions close together. Lucky for her, she got to hear the pain sounds of a thousand dying cows over the phone. "OH HONEY," she said, "I'm sending someone right now!" So I called Matt home and, shortly after, my other midwife arrived. When she wanted to check how things were progressing, I was terrified that she would find that I was still at the dreaded two cm. Surprise! I was at 8! My mood changed considerably. I was almost done! The pain wasn't for nothing! I was suddenly a birthing star, all happy and smiling and in control!
See, that's the key right there for me - staying in control. After that, it's a breeze. From this part to the part where the baby pops out is when I was considered to be in actual active labor. Everything before that was just for fun and giggles! The real labor part would end up being just short of three hours. The midwives filled up the birthing pool and got everything all laid out and ready. As I had suspected she would be, that stinker baby was sunnyside up, so they made me walk up some stairs to help turn her around. I couldn't believe how amazing these ladies were at their job. They were so knowledgeable and encouraging and knew exactly what to say to keep me from having another tantrum. Matt has become an impressive birthing assistant as well so there was a lot of hip-holding on his part for which he should really get a medal and a beer. There was hand-holding and water-breaking and then it was time to push! Last guesses, they said. Was it a boy or a girl did we think? Matt said girl, I said boy. It was time. I could do this, the midwife said, and there was going to be pain either way so I should just embrace it and make it work for me. Great, I said. Let's not mess around! No sad pitiful pushes for this sweaty wild-haired lady! Next thing I knew, there was head! There was a whole baby! They put the baby right on me and it was the most amazing unforgettable moment. You carry a baby around for nine months but it never gets less mind-blowing that that tiny person was there all along. I was so euphoric about it all that it took me a moment before I said, "Oh! So is it a boy or a girl?" Since everyone else was otherwise occupied, I took a peek and was shocked. She was a girl! I was 0-3 for guessing my children's genders. I was so thrilled about the whole experience that I didn't even dwell on what that says about me as a mom.
The midwives were so wonderful. They tidied everything up, helped me have a bath with the baby, fed me a sandwich while I fed my new baby (I'd had a mean deli meat craving, of all things, all those months), swaddled my baby, and tucked us into bed. They explained all the tests they had run on the baby and me why we were cleared and healthy. They asked if I needed anything and said goodnight - they would be back tomorrow to check on us! And so they were. They were back the next day and a couple days after that and then again a couple days after that. One of the things I was especially grateful for is that, with midwifery, you don't feel alone. I could call them with any questions and they would come right to me in my home if I needed. It was the complete opposite of my experience with Theo, where the doctor sends you home with pretty much zero idea of what you're doing and the lingering sarcastic whisper of "good luck with that" ringing in your ears. Okay so that didn't really happen but you know what I mean. Anyway, I will now never do it any other way!
We named her Clementine. Clementine was a name I had loved for some time now and it fit all of the naming criteria but I wasn't sure how Matt would feel about it. I had a couple other names that I was thinking of but when Matt heard Clementine, he said he loved it and wanted that for her name. I was pretty surprised but thrilled about it. It suits her perfectly and comes with a plethora of great nicknames!
The kids are delighted with their new little sister. I was relieved to not see any signs of jealousy and instead get to witness the whole lotta lovin' they heap on her. It's a trial to get them to stop slobbering all over her face with their kisses and waking her up with their high-pitched squeals of "SOOOOOOO CUTEEEE!!!!" Life with three is wild and busy and I'm loving it. Clementine is completely beautiful - no, really. I'm like 92.999% sure that I'm not just another one of those moms who thinks their kid is cute. I get told by a stranger that this girl is a doll a minimum of a thousand times every time we step out in public. I have to try to hide the cute under hats and such so that random people will stop touching her already wild mane of hair. She has these big gorgeous eyes and kissable cheeks. She's big on chatting and beaming smiles. The long and short of it is that we're all in love and I don't know what we ever did without her.
