Expectations and the best laid plans - my birth story part 1

I thought I was going into this whole pregnancy thing with a pretty realistic attitude. Gain whatever info you can, filter through the junk, and make the best decisions you can for you and your baby. Even with my 'plan' for labor, I realized things could change at a moments notice so I needed to be flexible. I wanted to go natural in a hospital because I know things can go wrong. I also was open to pain meds because I knew I had no idea what labor was going to be like for me, but holding off is best for baby so I was going to give it my best shot. I thought I had a pretty good plan that would make sure my babe would have his best chance making it into this world and adjusting to it through bonding and breast-feeding. I didn't know how it would go exactly, but I thought I had a good idea. So the due date comes and goes, but we don't stress it, this is normal for first timers. What I am stressing is the amount of weight I've gained and that my babe has always seemed to measure large. I was told by quite a few folks that those measurements are usually off and babies are smaller than they estimate. Regardless, my expanding girth had me on edge. I wanted a healthy baby, but I also didn't want to have a difficult recovery. I went in at 40 weeks and 3 days for an ultrasound, he's measuring 8lbs 7oz based off his head circumference, that of his abdomen and the length of his femur. This is and estimate that could be off by a whole pound either direction, but the tech doesn't think he's a 9-pounder. So Chris and I talk about the pros and cons. We had originally set up to induce the following day if things weren't looking right, but fluid was fine and a few days wasn't going to change the babe's weight by more than a few ounces. We agreed that trying to wait through the weekend wasn't a good idea however. Though I'd have another checkup on Friday, we'd have to be ready to turn on a dime if things looked bad. Plus, the longer you wait, the older the placenta gets and you risk a greater chance of a still birth. We agreed the best thing to do was to give it until Friday and if he hadn't come by then, to go ahead and induce. Come Thurs afternoon and I was still having doubts about our decision. What if it really was too soon? Was I just doing it because I was scared of having a big baby? Was this decision saying we didn't trust God and His timing? Ultimately I didn't want to labor for hours only to find out that my baby wasn't going to come out or was distressed and have to do an emergency C-section. So with all my doubts and fears and best intentions, we pressed with the plan. I rested (or tried to, but our power went out shortly after getting home) Thurs evening while Chris did our normal family events by himself. We finally got power back around 10PM, got the A/C going and tried to nap before our midnight show time. We probably didn't actually pull out until midnight, but our bags were in the car with pillows and blanket and we were on our way.

Treasuring these moments

I have to start by saying that I have had it fairly easy in comparison to all of the horror pregnancy stories you end up hearing once people find out that you're expecting.  I'm not sure if some women consider it a badge of honor to have suffered every possible hardship imaginable and come through it in the end to say it was all worth it, or if misery loves company, or that scaring the pooh out of a first-time mother is highly entertaining.  Either way, I've had it good.  This doesn't mean I haven't had to deal with any of the normal discomforts, stretching ligaments, sluggish digestive system, seemingly unexplainable fatigue, feeling like I have to pee every ten minutes, trouble sleeping due to previous ailments, ever-changing center of gravity (and hormones), and of course the pregnancy olfactory superpower. 

I definitely have my own complaints and the reassurances that "there's a miracle taking place" and "pregnancy is a beautiful thing" don't always cut it. Sometimes I just want my body back, to be able to look in the mirror and not see a chubby face, to not get winded while going up the stairs, to eat normally without worrying about some lurking bacteria.  I'd love to go for a run without wishing there was a port-o-loo around the corner and sleep soundly through the night.  I'd love to wear the plethora of clothes sitting in my drawers instead of the limited selection I now fit into with belly panels and ultra-stretchy fabrics.  I'd love to look down and see my feet again!  Sometimes I even dread the thought of the coming months, when Little One gets bigger and stronger and the jabs and kicks get more uncomfortable and then the final event where everything is a big unknown.

Yes, I have my fears and my complaints.  Then there are mornings like this morning.  Between the puppy, congestion, and my bladder, I was up at least three times last night and the kiddos woke up WAY too early.  Lately, every time I get up or flip over, our little one gets active so falling back asleep quickly is near impossible.  Normally this would not have made for the best of mornings, but I was finding humor in the kids trying to be quiet (read: loudly whispering to each other and having no concept of the amount of noise that toys can make) as we were trying to snooze for ten more minutes.  Little one was a awake which also made me giggle.  Then there was this beautiful moment when hubby slid closer to me and put his hand on my belly.  We laid there and listened to the loud whispering while feeling the turning and kicking coming from within me.  The temporariness of the situation dawned on me.  There will be plenty of moments when the hubs and I will lie in bed and appreciate our life together and our family, but it will never be quite like that one.  As the kids get older and if we move away, the loud whispering sessions and random announcements that seem so important to a three or six-year old will no longer be.  Family dynamics in split homes are ever-changing and we will never have it as good as we do now with how much time we get to spend with the kids.  And the kickboxing within my abdomen will only last another four months-ish.  Then all the fears of what could be happening within me will multiply to all of the exterior unknowns and this little guy will go through his own stages of growing up with, and then without, his half-siblings; each phase going by with increasing speed.

Every "good" thing and "bad" thing will change into a newer "good" or "bad" thing, so I am learning to appreciate these little moments while they last.  I also might take a nap when the three-year-old takes his :-)