I’m a planner.
When we tell people we don’t find out the gender of our babies before they are born, the most common statement we hear is “oh, I could never do that… I’m a planner“. My retort is that babies need a boob and diapers, both of which I’ve got. The pink or blue explosion can come after the birth. The sheer volume of pink Big had within the first week of life can attest to that!
For me, planning for a baby has nothing to do with gender and colors, but timing.
I can’t tell you how many times, in the last weeks and days of my pregnancy, I heard “She/He will come in God’s time…”. I sincerely wanted to find a peace with that, but I’m a planner… I didn’t want to have the baby before August 16th because The Hubby had overtime and a training day scheduled until then. I didn’t want to have the baby too early in August because my mother-in-law is coming out on September 3 and I didn’t want Little to be “too old” by the time she got here! I didn’t want to go overdue. I didn’t want to have the kid on any day but Tuesday, so all three of our kids would have been born on Tuesdays. I didn’t want Middle and Little to share a birthday. I wanted to be able to go to Big’s first day of Kindergarten (August 30).
God’s Time, right??
The 16th came and went. Nothing.
The two Tuesdays (Aug. 16 and 23) that I was “full term” came and went. Nothing.
My Due Date (August 24) came and went. Nothing.
By Middle’s birthday (August 25), I was emotionally exhausted. I’d been having contractions for a week and had even “called in the troops” (i.e. my mom to watch the kids and The Hubby to come home from work) only to have my contractions stop as I rested at night. I walked every night. I had a special pizza designed to send a full-term woman into labor (it worked with Big, it didn’t with Middle). The Hubby rubbed my feet. I bounced on a birthing ball. I had acupuncture. NOTHING.
On August 25th, I put the focus on Middle. We made a special breakfast (Cinnamon rolls, aka “Rambo Nuggets”), had her wear her birthday crown, sang Happy Birthday to her, and after a Drs appointment for a work-related injury, The Hubby and I gave her her “big” birthday present, a new climbing structure for the backyard.
Around 10am, we were enjoying a few minutes in the yard as a family when I decided that I should start timing my contractions again. I was reticent to call my mom to tell her what was going on, but I thought it was best to make her aware that I was timing them again, since she works 45 minutes away. I told her to stay at work because our neighbor was home (a rarity, it seems!) and was available to take the Bigs for a playdate while one of my oldest friends finished up some work to come put them down for naps. My mom was relieved that she would be able to stay at work, and I was relieved that we had so many people available to us to us when we needed them! I called the hospital at noon and headed out the door shortly thereafter.
I still wasn’t sure if this was *it* or not. I even told The Hubby to just park in the garage and I could walk into the hospital. Stork Parking? No thanks.
We went through the pre-admission rigamarole (what’s the point of faxing that stuff over beforehand anyway??), and were taken into triage. We came to find out that it was a very good thing we called when we did because the hospital’s Labor and Delivery unit was at capacity! Had we called 10 minutes later, we would have been diverted to a hospital 30-60 minutes away! The staff on duty were all in full-on working mode, none having even had the chance to stop for a bite to eat (you can’t exactly put labor on hold). I was extra aware to be kind to them because of the service and care they were providing me.
The contractions were present, but having had the two false starts, I wasn’t convinced I was going to actually be admitted to stay! Through each contraction, I focused on a prayer I recently shared on this blog…