Becoming Undone

Postpartum can be a rather painful time- physically. I wasn't ready for this with Caleb. You spend all this time preparing for the birth and all this time thinking about caring for a newborn, and maybe 5 minutes reading about how your body is going to recover. Then you have the baby and everything is uncomfortable.

If you've had a baby- you're nodding your head right now- perhaps vigorously. If you haven't, you may be wondering what I am referring to. I'd love to tell you, but this isn't the appropriate place : ) However, I do encourage you to find a godly woman you can trust to ask about it. Beware of women who have NOTHING good to say- that's not helpful. But someone who can be honest, gentle, and hopeful about what your body goes through as it recovers and learns to breastfeed.

One of the MANY benefits of natural childbirth is that the recovery is easier. Because I had been doing certain exercises, I had no rips, tears or stitches. Because I could feel each contraction, and therefore relax through it, I have no lingering pains in my abdomen or back.

However, nursing has caused me some grief. But thanks to lots of ladies who have encouraged me that it doesn't last forever, I am able to press on and feed my baby the best food for her. And even in 6 days, I've seen lots of improvement.

I read something last night that encouraged my heart in this matter and that I wanted to share with you. It just so happens that this woman's timing is the exact same as mine (2 weeks prior to Easter). These thoughts are helping to keep my heart focused.

From Loving the Little Years: Motherhood in the Trenches by Rachel Jankovic:

"My very kind and wise husband once left a note for me on Easter morning, two weeks after Daphne was born. He wrote, 'To my wife, before she even goes near the closet on Easter morning,' or something romantic like that. In it, he encouraged me to realize that there was no more fitting way to celebrate Easter (or any part of the Christian life) than in a body that has been undone on behalf of another."

I teared up when I read that last night and when I had Ross read it and when I type it now. Jesus' body was brutally undone... for us. I may be sore and tired and rundown. I can complain about all of this- or I can rejoice that I am suffering, in such a small way, like Christ did.

Thanks, Jesus- for becoming undone on behalf of me. May I see my own undoing on behalf of Genevieve, not as an inconvenience, but as a noble way to reflect you.

Postpartum RollerCoaster

It's easy for me to forget that for 95% of you, what I blog is all that you see. So when I blog something tender and honest and saddening, you don't know that things are better until I blog something tender and honest and joyful.

A dear friend came for a visit yesterday and reminded me that my hormones are crashing. She strongly suggested that I not blog while they crash. I have to respectfully disagree with her. I think it's beneficial for you to see this whole roller coaster of emotions. All of you.

There are basically 3 types of people reading my blog:

• Those of you who don't have children yet. You girls are so much on my heart right now!! I want you to see the whole process. The extreme joys and the extreme tears. Our society, honestly, even the church, doesn't talk enough about the long spectrum of emotions that new moms face. All I heard before Caleb was born was that I was going to be a great mom. A few days into motherhood- with a baby that would not eat and would not sleep- I was sure I had failed. It took several months for me to stop crying every day and realize that I was doing the best that I could and that God was redeeming the rest and that was more than enough. I don't want that for you girls. I want you to know some of what to expect- even if it's just to expect the unexpected- so when you're crying at 2am in the morning, you don't feel like a failure- you feel like an exhausted daughter who needs to be leaning on her strong Father.
• Then there are those of you who are right here with me- to quote Rachel Jankovic- we're together here "in the trenches." We need to know that we're not alone. God has given us Christian sisters to lean on, learn from and support. That only happens if we're honest about our situation and our emotions. Satan wants us to suffer alone. God wants us to humble ourselves and for us to let Him use us to bless and encourage one another.
• Finally, there are those of you who are past this stage. You've survived! We need you more than ever. We need to know that we will sleep again, fit in our favorite date night dress again, be able to handle more than just eating, diaper changing and laundry again. And we need you to tell us. With a smile and a hug. And we need to hear it often, because the Enemy is lying to us often. And we need practical help, too. Remember in James' epistle when he asks us what good it is to see a brother in need, tell him to be warm and then walk away without meeting his physical needs? It does a little good to tell a new mom to cheer up and things will get better. It does soooo much good to tell a new mom to cheer up, bring her a meal and hold her baby so that she can take a shower before her husband comes home.
• I guess, there may be 4 groups of people who read my blog. There are the guys, too. I hope my honesty opens your eyes to the women around you. They are just as emotional and up-and-down as I am. I hope my honesty reminds you to be tender towards them. If you are married to "wash your wife in the Word" and to find little, practical ways to show your love (which is a dim, yet beautiful, reflection of the Father's love) for her.

So I'm going to continue blogging. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Today has been very good. Genevieve slept great last night. I got 3 1/2 hours of straight sleep! (Some of you are rejoicing with me, some of you are just remembering what that joy feels like, some of you don't think you could ever survive motherhood. All of those responses are okay : ) )

So she slept well and she is nursing great. Some of that pain has subsided. And she's filling herself up. Her face even looks a little fuller.

And my boys are so sweet. Ross and Caleb have always had a precious relationship, but Caleb is really connecting with his daddy. During the 11pm feeding last night, Ross told me how he likes taking Caleb places. They had gone to the pharmacy for me and Ross was telling me how fun it is to go places with "his little buddy." My heart was filling up : )

Today, my parents are over. Dad held Genevieve so I could take a nice, long shower (I even got to shave my legs!) Now he's helping Ross around the house. Mom's playing with Caleb and working on the laundry.

And I'm sitting here sharing this rollercoaster ride with you. I'm glad you're here. I hope you are enjoying the ride : )

I told you he was mean...

First off, thank you to all of you who have prayed for my heart and have written/messaged/texted sweet comments. God is using you to encourage me greatly. Last night, everybody slept well and Genevieve nursed like a champ. We are doing great : )

But I have to clarify something...

Last night, while I was typing up my story, I fumbled with what I should do about the youth group part. It really did shock and hurt me that a bunch of jr. highers and high schoolers were asking me if her birth was like a TV show. It FELT like (doesn't mean it was true...) but it FELT like a number of young men weren't able to make eye contact with me. I felt humiliated.

On Wednesday night, I spoke to our youth pastor and told him that I was hurt about what happened. He apologized and I told him it was okay. We agreed that Ross and I could share our story next week with the kids, hoping they would get more out of it. I thought Braden understood that we were okay.

Then someone at church read my blog and told him to read it, too. And now he feels horrible. And he shouldn't.

I told you Satan was mean.

Braden told the kids much more of the story, but the toilet part was what resonated with them. That's not his fault. He had no ill intentions what so ever. He is not completely insensitive. It was a miscommunication.

Go figure. I've never experienced one of those before... : )

So just to clear things up:

• Our youth pastor is not an insensitive jerk.
• Satan is.

And I am not okay with him making us feel guilty and humiliated and trying to separate and cause divisions among us.

Let's keep praying against those things, okay : )

Satan is so mean...

I knew it was going to happen sooner or later.
It always does.
When God is doing amazing things.
Awesome things.
Things that rejuvenate and encourage and bring hope.
Big things.
Things that just couldn't be possible without His hand.
That's when he shows up.
The one that comes only to kill and steal and destroy.
I knew he would show up eventually.
But I didn't know how.
And I didn't know when.
But he did...

Last night, Ross and I thought it would be fun to take the kids to church. On Wednesday nights, our church has a yummy $2 dinner and then different classes for different ages. We volunteer with the highschoolers. I wanted to my girls to get to see her. And I wanted to get out of the house. And I wanted a yummy $2 dinner : )

So we loaded up the kids and went. It felt like we were bombarded in the parking lot. Lots of oohhs and aahhs. Lots of questions. Lots of "you're crazy"s. Several women told me that they had read our story and were touched or moved or had laughed and cried. I was encouraged by the joy that Genevieve was bringing to all these people. Babies are such blessings!

And then we started hearing other comments:

"My son said you better not tell Genevieve she was born in the toilet. Kids will make fun of her at school."

"Someone asked me how the poop baby was doing."

"They said she was born in the toilet. What does that mean? Was it like that TV show I Didn't Know I was Pregnant?"

I find out the youth pastor had decided to share our story with the whole youth group while I was nursing Genevieve. His synopsis: She was born in the toilet, but she's okay.

I overhear a college student telling his girlfriend, "Yeah, that's Ross and Dru-Lynn's baby. Apparently she was born in the..." I don't care that I'm eavesdropping. I touch his shoulder and ask him to stop. "Please. Don't. That's not the most important part." He agrees to read my blog before he shares my story.

Seriously, people? This is all that you can grasp from that story? That she was born in the toilet?

So this bothers me greatly. (Ironically, I haven't really thought through that part before. Again, call me crazy- but when you have a beautiful baby girl to love and care for... you don't think about people making fun of her.)

Then we get home and it's time to nurse again and I can NOT get her latch on the left side. She had been doing so well- but she decided she won't do it. We go through several feedings of her screaming- horrifically- instead of eating. She's fine on the right side, but stubborn on the left. Meanwhile, it's really beginning to hurt- both my breast and my heart.

Finally, at 2am, she latches and eats. I start whispering thanks to God for His help. For answering that prayer. For a baby that nurses well. And then I get a vision in my head of 5 year old Genevieve with cute pigtails. She comes up to me crying- telling me the kids at church are making fun of her because she was born in the toilet. Then another vision. This time she's 15 and tall and beautiful and she says I've ruined her life by birthing her in the toilet.

And I look down at my 3-day-old newborn, latching so well and humongous tears start dripping down my face. "Don't make fun of her!" I whisper. Ross was dozing off next to me, sees my tears and panics. "What's wrong?" I tell him it's not the nursing. It's the teasing. Why won't people leave my baby alone?

Then I start feeling emotional about Ross. I'm angry at him. For no reason. I feel disappointed and alone. And... I tell myself to snap out of it. He is wonderful and present and loving. Snap out of it.

And all of this. The toilet talk; the nursing troubles; the unfair thoughts towards Ross- all of it- is Satan trying to kill and steal and destroy. Trying to rob God of the glory He deserves for protecting us and loving us and blessing us. Trying to rob me of the joy that God wants to overflow in my heart.

I tell Satan to stop it. Leave me alone. Quit it. I ask Jesus to fight against him so that I can rest. And I fall fast asleep...

I know that His attacks are not finished. They've really just begun. But I know that God is greater. That His glory can not be squelched. That I have His Word to fight Satan's lies with.

Would you pray for my heart? That it wouldn't be overwhelmed. That it would not give a moment's thoughts to Satan's lies, but instead, fight them off with TRUTH. Please also pray for rest. He knows I'm tired- and weak. But I know that God never sleeps and is strong.

One more request. If you find yourself relaying our story to someone, could you summarize it like this: "I have a friend who had her baby girl at home last Sunday. She didn't mean to. But God had a plan and He was there and He kept them safe. The baby's name is Genevieve. She is a blessing to her family and God has big plans for her life."

Please. Don't say anything about the toilet.

: )

Perfect Timing

I had been worrying about when Genevieve would come. Ross works in Chandler- about 45 minutes from our home. That's on average. No traffic- 30 minutes. An accident or 2- easily over an hour.

What if she decided to come in the middle of a work day? What if Ross had to hurry home? What would that drive be like for him- stressing about getting to me in time?

Looking at how everything turned out now... thank God she came on a Sunday evening! Can you imagine if I was having contractions 10 minutes apart at 10am on a workday? Ross may have come home to me birthing the baby myself in the bathroom!!

If that had happened, God would have been here with me, of course! But I am consider myself blessed that I was able to labor with Ross by my side the entire time, even if I didn't realize that that was what I was doing : )

The Best Birth Attendant

Several people have been asking me lately what I would have done differently on Genevieve's birthday, if I could have changed anything. The only thing I can think of is the fact that we did not have someone medically trained here during the delivery. There would have been so much less stress on Ross if a midwife or a paramedic had physically been here to help. In fact, I'm kind of leaning towards having a PLANNED home birth next time : )

While this time, we did not have a physical birth attendant present- I can assure you that God was here with us the ENTIRE time. His fingerprints are all over this story and all over this little girl's life already. He is so good and I am so thankful for a special experience like a birth for us to see that.

My original intention was to sit here and list things that happened that were "God-things". Instead, I think I'll take it slower and just "mini-blog" for a while. As I think of them, I'll post specific ways that God revealed His presence and glory to us.

I hope these moments encourage your heart and your faith in our God who is so good and who is the original author of all these crazy, beautiful stories!

Genevieve Carigrace's Birth Story Part Two

Thanks for your patience : ) Both babies are asleep again. I know...I know... but if I laid down now I'd just be thinking of all the details I want to include in this story, so I'm going to finish now and sleep in peace tonight.

So Ross calls Lisa and fills her in on what's been going- to the best of his abilities- from his perspective- which was helpful, but she wanted to talk to me, to hear my voice and how I thought things were going. I chatted with her for a couple minutes- told her about the progression of my contractions and everything. I had one contraction while I was on the phone with her and she talked me through it while Ross helped me to relax. Then, she asked me what I wanted to do. I told her I was comfortable where I was and didn't feel like going to the hospital yet. She said, "Well. We don't you to be pushing in the parking lot. But if you feel okay at home, it will probably be okay to stay there a little while longer. Go ahead and call me when you are headed to the hospital, okay?" I said okay and hung up.

(At some point in here, my mom arrived. She was trying to distract herself and was sitting on our couch talking to Ross' mom on the phone...)

If you've read Caleb's birth story, then you know that Ross and I had a sweet opportunity before my induction to sit and pray together for the birth ahead. It is one of my favorite memories of all time and I had already decided I wanted us to pray before we had Genevieve. So after we hung up with Lisa, I asked Ross to sit on the bed and pray with me. We thanked God for our baby, for his protection and provision, for his presence with us there in our room, in the car, in the hospital. We thanked him for Lisa and for the nurses that were going to help us. We prayed for wisdom and endurance and strength.

And then I had another contraction. A strong contraction. A very, very painful contraction. Up until that point, I had been able to relax through them all. They hurt, sometimes badly, but I was able to breathe deeply and "let go". Not with this one. I couldn't lie still. I told Ross it hurt too much. I couldn't do this anymore. And then, I had an extreme moment of clarity. With complete seriousness, I asked him "Am I in transition already?" (If you don't know, transition is the part of labor where your body goes from 7 or 8 cm to fully dialated. It happens quickly (a few minutes to a few hours) and it is the hardest part of labor, both physically and emotionally).

Ross just shook his head like he didn't know what was going on. And then another contraction came. If the last one was bad, this one was horrific. I could not lie still. I was flailing my arms everywhere, rolling on the bed. Ross held my arms down to the bed, looked me in the eyes and said, "Relax. Relax. Relax!" Then he calmed down and started speaking softly about walking through the forest in Sedona together. I was able to calm down slightly.

When that contraction was over, another moment of clarity came. "We have to go to the hospital now," I said. I went to stand up and had a huge urge to go to the bathroom. "First, I'll go to the bathroom and then we'll go to the hospital." "Okay," Ross said. Another contraction came and I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. "Wait," said Ross. "My water is going to break and I need to go!" I yelled at him.

I walked into our (teeny, tiny) master bathroom and sat on the toilet. Another moment of clarity. I don't need to have a bowel movement. I need to push out this baby. Oh...my...gosh... Ross came into the bathroom with the phone and told me he was going to call Lisa. Another moment of clarity. "No. You are going to call 911." "Okay."

I stood up from the toilet and grabbed onto a towel rack. Meanwhile, Ross is giving the dispatcher our address and telling him that I am in the process of having this baby in our bathroom. I put my hand between my legs and feel something like a massive water balloon. The dispatcher tells Ross to have me lie down on my back. That sounds like the worse idea ever to me. (That is the most uncomfortable position to labor in). I tell him I am not doing that (even though I should have at least squatted down because...)

Another contraction comes and I feel lots of burning and I scream as my bag of waters makes an audible POP and water rushes out of me along with Genevieve as I'm standing up holding on to the towel bar. She slides through my one free hand, through Ross' one free hand and into the toilet. Then baby girl starts screaming and I am in complete shock. And poor, poor Ross is mortified at the sight of his baby girl in the toilet, and his other baby girl standing in pools of her own blood. He fished Genevieve out of the toilet and gave my mom the phone. I was then directed to lie down. I obliged this time :) by lying in our shower. Mom brings us lots of towels to cover myself and Genevieve. She is crying loudly. This makes the dispatcher happy. Then we hear more crying. Poor Caleb is awake. I direct Mom towards him. Ross is sitting on the floor of the bathroom, holding on to Genevieve and me.

Then, a paramedic walks in the door, sits down on the toilet seat and starts talking to me in the shower. (I told you our bathroom was small...) He must have been the kindest paramedic ever, and he must have done this before. He was very gentle and very kind. He took my vitals and Genevieve's. He clamped and cut the cord. He kept saying how good we both looked. Then he asked me to stand up and I thought he was crazy!

Did he know what I had just done? He asked if I felt lightheaded. Could he see the blood all over the floor? After a couple minutes, I was able to get up and walk to the gurney they had for me in our bedroom. I never had put on any clothing or my glasses since my shower, so imagine my surprise when I leave our bathroom to find 8 fuzzy figures of firemen in my bedroom. Thank God I couldn't see clearly. I might have died of humiliation.

I was able to climb up on the gurney myself (how, I do not know...) and was wheeled down our hallway- past Mom holding sleepy, very confused, very intrigued Caleb and into our dining room where our sweet neighbors from across the street are standing saying, "Dru-Lynn! This was not the plan!" I sheepishly smile as they hand me Genevieve and then wheel me out the front door into the very chilly night air. (At this point, I am covered by all kinds of randomness- bath towels, firemen towels, bloody stuff, I don't know what...) And then up and in I went into the back of the ambulance.

They start taking my vitals again and asking me all kinds of questions- like my name and where I work. I tell them I don't. Then I self-correct. "Well, I do. But I don't get paid." "You're a homemaker," the kind paramedic says, "That's a wonderful thing. And there aren't enough of them." That made me smile. Then there's a knock on the back door. They open it and there is my wonderful husband, asking if he can come, too. Then tell him he can ride up front.

Then we make the crazy trip to the hospital. I don't recommend riding in a vehicle as bumpy as an ambulance after giving birth. Not only is it physically uncomfortable, but they have the bed highly elevated, my knees bent and my ankles apart. I think drivers could see everything through the back window as they drove down 19th Ave. I ask if I can put my legs down and they say no. The kind paramedic pulls a towel down to cover me.

We pull up to the hospital and are taken to the emergency room entrance. We are a sight to see! Ross is wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts and he is COVERED in blood. I am covered in all kinds of bloody material. But there's a cute baby girl on my lap. Ross gives me my glasses and I can finally see what's going on. More questions, then goodbyes as I am wheeled around and up the elevator to the maternity ward.

They get me in a room and a midwife named Kate comes in and starts checking me out. She and nurses do what they can to sponge bath me off (I still had bloody feet when I went to leave the hospital...) Then they start checking my uterus for shrinkage and my perenium for tears. Those two events hurt more than birthing Genevieve! I immediately want to go home : ) They deliver the placenta and dispose of it. Then, sweet Kate, pulls the stool close to the bed and says, "Now. Tell me your story!" with a fun sense of excitement in her eyes. I give them a brief synopsis and they joke with Ross about how messy he is.

Then a bunch of un-fun hospital stuff happened. (Registration paperwork- AFTER you've already had the baby... Taking the baby away from me to weigh her and bathe her and warm her, etc.)

I won't go into any of those details here. That's the most exciting part of the story. Please check back again soon. I want to post some cool ways that God showed up in that whole process.

Now... I will join my sleeping children : )

Genevieve Carigrace's Birth Story Part One

First, I should probably start by explaining what we WANTED to happen on the day that Genevieve came:

• We wanted a natural birth. I was hoping to labor and deliver without any drugs at all and with as few as interruptions (IV, cervical checks, etc) as possible. Ross and I took Bradley Method classes before we had Caleb- and Caleb was delivered without pain meds, but with inducing drugs. So we are WELL TRAINED in birth and the process and I am not, by any means, a superwoman : )
• We wanted to labor as long as possible as home- because it is the easiest place to be comfortable and cozy and there are no chances of all of those drugs and interruptions at home.
• We wanted to deliver the baby at Phoenix Baptist Hospital with a certified-nurse midwife from Bethany Women's Center named Lisa. All of their midwives are excellent, but I had very good experiences with her- had shared a lot of my fears and concerns with her and felt she had the best idea of what we wanted and was willing to help me accomplish it.
• We did NOT want a home birth. As Ross says, "They're really messy!"
• We wanted me to be completely healthy. I had been fighting a sinus infection that turned into an ear infection. I had been pretty miserable for the week prior and I was fervently praying that Genevieve would not come until the infection had cleared. How was I supposed to deliver a baby without pain meds, if my head was constantly throbbing?

So here's what REALLY happened : )

Sunday morning, March 25th, we had decided that Ross and Caleb would go to church, but that I would stay home and rest. My infections were really running me down and it didn't seem like being around a lot of people and loudish :) music was a good idea. Ross is glad they went to church. He was blessed by the music and preaching of the Word that day, while Caleb was able to play and have some normalcy without interrupting my rest, and I was able to rest and have some sweet quiet time with the LORD on the beginning of a very, very important day.

All morning and into the afternoon, I was having contractions. Very, very sporadic ones. Sometimes they were once an hour, sometimes every half hour. They were lower than all the contractions I had been having in weeks prior, but it was easy to ignore them. If I was sitting down, I couldn't feel them at all. In fact, it seemed like they only came if I got up to go somewhere. They were stronger than all the others I had had, but so sporadic, must still be Braxton Hicks, right?

My brother and dad came over the day before to help Ross work on a home improvement project. They had worked all day and had a few finishing touches to put on it. So my brother Ben came over and worked with Ross to finish it. After Ben left, about 5 in the afternoon, I asked Ross if we could go on a walk. " If these are real contractions, a walk should help them get really started" I told him. Ross agreed and off the 3 of us went.

I had 2 contractions on that walk- both about 25 minutes apart from others I had been having. We'd be walking, they would start slowly, I'd keep walking, then have to stop to breathe through them. They were getting stronger, but not too strong. I still felt very much in control and able to handle them. And 25 minutes apart? Maybe she'd come on Monday.

When we got home (around 6pm), I really felt like this was the beginning of labor, but that the delivery itself was far off. But I got busy. What did I want done before we went to the hospital? I did dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Our hospital bag wasn't packed (perhaps a mistake...) but I had made a list of everything I wanted to take with us, so I began gathering clothes, books, snacks, etc. Ross fed Caleb dinner at this time. I wasn't real hungry, so I had a cheese stick and some Ritz crackers.

I don't know what really happened the next couple hours. My contractions were getting closer together, but slowly. 15 minutes apart. 12. 16. Those two were 9 minutes apart. Wait, now we're back to 15. I'm busy doing some nesting. Ross is busy spending time with Caleb. Contractions are getting stronger, but still manageable. Yet, I'm getting a little jealous of the time Ross is spending with Caleb. The contractions don't hurt so much if he is stroking my hair or talking to me.

Yet, at the same time, I see his nesting instincts are sweeter than mine. I want the house ready, Ross wants Caleb ready. About 8:30pm, I decide to quit worrying about what the house looks like and start enjoying our son. They are playing together in Genevieve's purple bedroom. Our sweet neighbors have given us a play kitchen and washer/dryer for her. Caleb LOVES putting dishes in the sink and in the drawers and taking them back out again. I sit down next to my boys and tell Ross that he is choosing "the better thing" quoting Jesus in relation to Mary and Martha. I smile. You're not supposed to be able to smile in late labor, just in the beginning. Baby Girl is still a long way off...

At this time (9pm), contractions are pretty consistently 10 minutes apart. They hurt, though. Real deep and low. I can feel pain in my lower uterus, my cervix and into my legs. I felt excruciating pain in my legs when I labored with Caleb. This makes me wonder if this isn't real and progressing, but everything is still 10 minutes apart. Am I really wimpy? How come I can't handle contractions that are 10 minutes apart?

It's getting past Caleb's bedtime. so we decide to put him to bed. Ross goes through the routine with him, while I lay down on the spare bed in Caleb's room. In the 30 minutes that it takes to get him ready, my contractions go from 10 minutes apart to consistently 5 minutes apart. Still strong, but manageable.

Now it's 10pm. I start getting bossy. This is not an unusual part of my character, but one I try to suppress and an attitude that I do NOT allow to spring up around Ross, but this is serious business. "I'm going to call my mom and tell her to come over. You need to call your mom. Then I'm going to get in the shower. Hopefully some steam will help clear my sinues. You are going to finish packing for the hospital. Okay?" Ross just smiles, nods, and gets to work. I wait till a contraction is over and call my mom. She says she's rushing over. I tell her not to rush. Baby isn't coming too soon. Just take her time and come. She agrees to be to the house by 11pm.

I get in the shower and have a contraction. This one is quite strong. I thought water was supposed to help you relax even better. When I feel the next one coming on, I yell for Ross to come help me. He holds my hand while I stand with my belly in the water. That feels GOOD! We can do this. Turns out my contractions are now 3 minutes apart. Ross agrees to hold my hand through each contraction, then run around and pack for 2 minutes, then run back. We do this for a while (20 minutes, maybe??)

I turn off the shower and then can't decide what to do. I don't want to get dressed. I want to lie down. I lie down on our bed in a towel. I tell Ross I'm just going to rest. He needs to finish packing (Ross is kind of an extraordinarily slow packer, in case you were wondering...) I have a contraction, which hurts, but is manageable, and I tell him to grab my cell phone and call the midwife.

To be continued...