Practice Makes Perfect

So far, our boy's story has had a few false starts. I thought I better write them down so that they don't get lost (especially if they turn out to be somehow indicative of his personality-- then I can say things like, "Well I'm not surprised you have writer's block again; you have ALWAYS had a difficult time getting started!").

A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law had a dream that we named our baby boy Patrick. This didn't mean a lot to me until St. Patrick's day rolled around. I convinced myself this would be my boy's day. I performed many labour-inducing rituals in the hopes that it would be but came up short at the end of the night.

Oh. He must be waiting for my birthday. I figured it would be a nice way to take my mind off of turning the big 3-0. So, Monday I went to see the doctor and he knew by the expression on my face that I had had about enough. The week before, I had the flu and was still recovering. I was exhausted and anxious to meet our boy. The dr. offered to check me and was surprised at how readily I acquiesced (with Norah, I was much more cautious). I was 2 cm and 50% effaced. He asked if I wanted him to sweep my membranes. Again, he was clearly surprised at how quickly I agreed. He informed me the baby would likely come Wednesday, if it worked. He also reminded me that "it is going to be quick" once the baby does decide to come. That hasn't really helped my anxiety about the false starts...

Tuesday, at 3:05, I awoke to a strong contraction. It repeated at 3:18 and 3:41. Because they were so regular, I woke Chris. We got out of bed and started to make sure that everything was in order. We held off calling my sister-in-law (to come babysit Norah) and the doula just in case it was just practice labour. Good thing, because I got in the bath at 5:45 to try to alleviate the tension headache I'd had for the past two days and the contractions disappeared. I sent C off to work, but was convinced I'd be calling him back any minute. Boy was I wrong. And disappointed about it.

Tuesday night, I convinced my mom to come stay at our place because surely things would pick up again. After all, I had EVERY SINGLE SYMPTOM of going into labour (except for the water breaking and the contractions). I fell asleep just after midnight and was half-woken by the awareness of at least half-a-dozen contractions that were far more intense than the night before. I was able to return to sleep between each one and again, by morning, they had all but disappeared.

I drove my mom to work and then proceeded to the mall to try and walk the baby out. I thought that surely the potential for a public water show would egg him on, but no such luck. I returned home and did laundry, taking the stairs two at a time between each load. I had a few Braxton Hicks here and there, but nothing of note. I told mom to go home for the night, again hoping that the prospect of having to wake some unsuspecting soul in the middle of the night to come watch Norah would be enough to inspire him.

Presently it is 9:00. I've had a few strong surges, but they are completely sporadic. C just got home with the Chinese food I requested. Here's hoping the boy's just been waiting for a ginger-beef fix before departing.