Hazel's Birth Story - Part Three

If you missed them, check out parts one and two before reading on.  

My husband and I continued to casually chat between contractions.  The only thing I didn't love about being in that luxurious tub is that it was situated in the corner in such a way that I felt far away from my love.  He really had to lean in order to take a hold of my hand.   I wished he could whisper comforting things to me during contractions like he has done in the past.

Finally the contractions began to pick back up a little bit, but they were still irregular and unpredictable.  The nurse came back in to quickly monitor the baby's heart beat, which stayed strong and steady throughout the night, and she kindly showed me how to turn on the jets.  Women in labor don't have the patience to figure out such contraptions on their own. ;-)  She also ran some more hot water for me since it had cooled considerably.   Did I mention I really loved my l&d nurse?

By the time I settled back into my bubbling bath, my mom was back from her errand and I could hear her, My Stud, and the kids in my room (the door to the bathroom was shut).  She was getting them snacks, and getting ready to take them out to the lobby.  Earlier Princess had shown considerable concern regarding the birthing process, so we felt that it was best for them to wait where they wouldn't be able to hear me scream.   Screaming felt a long way off though.

I got on my knees and hung my arms over the front of the tub to give my back a break.  The buoyancy of the water was nothing short of amazing.  When hubby came back into the room, I asked him to help my mom get the kids out to the lobby asap, because I was worried about Princess hearing me moan through some suddenly-more-hefty contractions.  As soon as he stepped out the most powerful contraction yet ripped through my abdomen, requiring all my willpower to stay quiet.  I could noticeably feel my cervix stretch.  As soon as I could speak, I called him back and informed him in no uncertain terms that he had better not leave after all...but for heaven's sake scoot the kids out.  My arms fell asleep hanging over the tub like that, so I settled back into a seated position and turned off the jets as they had suddenly become annoying.

That's when we called the nurse to get the midwife, Nikki. 

I had a couple more contractions in the meantime.  Once Nikki arrived, I asked her to check me.  Surely I was getting pretty close.  The tub had really slowed things down, but it couldn't be much longer since I was an 8 when I got in.  I had been in the tub for just over an hour.

12:45 a.m.  Nikki smiled and sort of looked at me sideways.  "She's just waiting for you to push her out."

"What!?"

"Feel for yourself.  Her head is right there."

Her head hadn't quite crowned but was about two inches from doing so. 

Then we entered a discussion about whether or not my water had broken.  It hadn't.  They thought perhaps I had missed it while the jets were on.  I assured them I had not and informed them that in the past my water has always broken right at the end.  In fact, I could feel that the bag of waters was still in tact when I felt my baby's head.

Then we took a celebratory photo of me ready to push out a baby - legs crossed, feet propped, arms folded across my chest.  As if I were lounging on the beach.  Except my eyes looked a little weary.  And I was naked. 

"I don't feel like I need to push."  I was still reeling from the shock:  How did I miss transition?   It must have been that awful contraction and the ones following it.

"You can do whatever you want.  That's what is so great to me about water births.  You do everything and I pretty much just get to witness you birth your own baby, and then I pull her out of the water."  Nikki had rad water birthing gloves that extended all the way to her shoulder.

Next we discussed what happens after the baby is born.  "After she's born we'll wait for the first gush of blood.  Then at the first gush of blood, you'll get out of the tub and go to bed.  We'll deliver the placenta on the bed."  Got it.

I was still smiling between contractions which I only know because there are photos to prove it.
"I'll push with the next contraction."  It felt strange and awkward to do so since I didn't yet feel the urge to push.

Contraction one: she crowned.   Now I felt the urge to push. 

12: 53 a.m. Contraction two: my water broke while I was pushing.  Another push or two and I almost got her head out...but didn't.   I made a mental note that the pushing part seemed like more work in the buoyancy of the water.  Where's gravity when you need it?  I also noted that the water in the tub was still perfectly clear and lovely, and that I was doing an excellent job of keeping my perfectly straightened hair from getting wet.  Important stuff you know.

Contraction three: I screamed like I was at death's door, and I gave it everything I had.  (I actually bruised the back of my head from pushing it so hard into the back edge of the tub while scream pushing.)  I love the excitement in my My Stud's voice when he sees our child's head emerge.  And once her head was out, her body slid out easily, but painfully, with one final push.

12: 55 a.m.

Nikki quickly lifted her out of the water and handed her to me.  My first thoughts were that I'd never seen a baby covered with so much vernix.  And she looked nothing like either of her sisters.  And she had so much hair!   My first words may have been, "Gosh that hurt."  But I might have said, "Hiiiiii baby" before that.  We'll never know.  In our birth photos, my face supports the former, so that was probably it.  Then I finally smiled.   And double checked that she was indeed a girl.

I couldn't hold my baby very close to my chest because her umbilical cord was a little on the short side, so my husband cut it a smidge sooner than we otherwise would have so that I wasn't yanking on the placenta.  Then came the first gush of blood so we moved to the bed to finish up while the nurse diapered and swaddled our wee little one.

 

Like with Smooch, delivery of the placenta went w/o a hitch but I spent the next half hour or so having my uterus punched repeatedly by medical personnel I used to like massaged and blood loss measured because I was borderline bleeding too much.  So I got whatever meds they give a person for that, begged for heavy pain killers, and got those too.  The staff can compliment me all they want regarding labor and delivery but I am a big sissy when it comes to after labor pains.  (Pssst!  What they say is true:  the after labor uterine contractions get worse with each kid.  Something about it having to work a little harder each time to return to normal size...)  Thankfully, I did not experience any tearing though.

Soon our little big late-night troopers got to come meet their little sister.  And I'm telling you, there were fireworks.

At 6 lbs. 13.2 oz. and 20 inches, Hazel was born our smallest baby yet.  And she had the most hair. 

I could not get over the awesomeness of having a queen-sized bed because I got to keep the same room for the duration of our hospital stay. :-D  (I also got a complimentary 15-minute postpartum massage!  This place is cool, right!?)

So now we're a family of five, which I love.

And isn't there something so precious about seeing a big tough guy tenderly falling in love with his newest little princess?  There is also something ridiculously attractive about seeing your husband in action as a veteran dad.  He was and is so wonderful with Hazel.

Some final thoughts about water birth:

I still can't get over how much being in the water relieved the pain of contractions, though the agony of birth itself was still just as real.  I truly didn't recognize transition for what it was.  I also can't believe how much and how instantly labor slowed down when I got in the water.  (That is not a typical experience, I have since learned.) I believe Hazel would have been born on the fourth instead of the fifth if I had not used the tub.  However, it was hands down completely worth having a slightly slower labor in order to experience that great of pain relief.  Should there be a baby #4 in our future, I would certainly seek another water birth.

More than the water birth experience itself, I was so impressed with and so thankful for the respectful way in which my husband and I were both treated at this particular hospital.  With our third child, I was finally allowed to labor the way that I wanted to without "routine interventions."  Because of that, my labor was extremely peaceful.

Any lingering water birth questions?  I'd be happy to answer them regarding my personal experience. :-)

Hazel's Birth Story - Part Two

If you missed part one, check it out before reading on.

Finally, they got busy and had me in a room as quickly as possible. 

And not just any room, a water birth room that boasted a queen-sized bed and corner jetted tub in the spacious bathroom.

 

I paced and labored, labored and paced.  Unlike my last experience (in a different state), no one bothered me with stupid questions like, "for the 5th time, what is your DOB?  Sorry the computer keeps prompting me for it."  Nope.  Not this time.

Did they try to strap me down to a bed with the explanation of having to constantly monitor baby as routine?  Nope.  I was intermittently monitored with a portable device.

Was I given an iv?  Nope.  Surely at least a hep lock?  Nope!  I was instead offered juice and water and enjoyed the luxury of drinking and using the restroom whenever I saw fit.

The midwife and nurse literally said to me, "It's your baby and your birth.  You can do whatever you want."  And then they left, checking in occasionally.

It was hard to believe I was in a hospital. 

So I walked around, casually chatting with my husband between contractions. (My mom was out keeping the girls entertained and running back to the house to get my husband's forgotten glasses.  His contacts were killing him.)  Part of our conversation focused on how amazed and thankful we were in regards to how well we were being treated.  For the first time in my childbearing years, I was treated as an adult woman who knows her body (laboring or not), capable of making decisions in regards to birth rather than being treated as yet another medical emergency.   As a side note, I don't get too caught up in the "natural childbirth club," but I must say that being treated with such respect was very empowering.

They had drawn me a bath, so I decided to try it out.  However, the relief was so great that I felt I wasn't progressing as quickly in the water, so I got out.  Eventually, I asked to be checked again because I am a curious sort of person, even while in labor.  It was 10 or 11 p.m. by then, and I was dilated to 8 cm.

This is me at about 8 cm oogling over a tiny diaper and hat:

I felt pretty good, and continued just chatting away with my husband, and trying to resist his tempting coffee.  He must have been on his second or third cup, and it smelled wonderful.  I opted for my cranberry juice instead. My contractions were finally getting closer together.  5 minutes, then 2- 3 minutes.  It seemed like transition was coming quickly, and my discomfort was growing, so I got back in the tub.  

As soon as the water enveloped me, the strangest thing happened.  The contractions immediately slowed and became sporadic.  7 minutes, 2 minutes, 5 minutes.  As odd as it was, it was also quite relieving.  By this point, I was sure that our baby would be born on her due date, the 5th, as midnight was right around the corner.

Read the rest of the story, Part Three.

Hazel's Birth Story - Part One

It felt like deja vu.  My mom had flown in the day before, and we were waiting.  Waiting for the arrival of our sweet baby.  The last time we were in this situation, she missed meeting our baby by less than 24 hours.  I have late babies.

It was January 4th - my brother's and sister's shared birthday - and my due date was just one day away.  My Stud was on his way home from work.  I had already talked to him on the phone once, but I called him back.

"When you get here, I need you to finish packing our bags and throw them in the car.  We're going to be late for community group, but I don't want to risk not having everything with us.  Just in case.  I'm having some pretty good contractions."

We were busy getting ready to walk out the door as soon as Daddy came home.  The contractions had started at about 5 p.m., and while they were ten minutes apart, they felt like the real thing.  Plus, I had moved my bowels 3 or 4 times in the past two hours.  That tipped me off more than anything else that my body was gearing up.  That afternoon, I hastily mailed off some (late) birthday cards, packed up our Christmas tree, and a few other bizarre "I have to do this before the baby comes" items.  Like wash and straighten my hair. ;-)

6:30 p.m.  We were already quite late for our community group (an in-home Bible study), so my friend J. called while we were en route to check in - make sure I wasn't in labor or something.  I think I might be, but we're coming. Because I might not be... Yes, we'll be there in a few minutes. 

I was sure enough by the time we arrived that I didn't eat dinner.  I really wanted frito pie, but it was the sort of thing that might not sit well during such an event.  So I ate a cookie.   Because cookies sit well.  ;-) Deja vu once again.  9 minutes.  Bible study started.  8 minutes.  I stood because sitting felt awful.

We need to go.

8:15 p.m.  I waited in triage longer than I liked waiting.  I had to lay in a bed to be monitored.  My contractions became irregular when I sat there.  I could tell that they didn't exactly believe that I was in labor.  Darn.  This is the part where I was supposed to act like I was buried under pain, and I forgot about that genius plan.  You have to be in a LOT of pain before they pay too much attention to you in triage.  Or so it would seem. 

I peeked my head out into the hallway and asked how long I had to wait for a room.  I warned them about how quickly my last daughter was born.  I reminded them that this was my THIRD baby.  My mom took the girls to find a snack down the hall.  She reiterated our concerns.  I think my husband took a turn bothering the receptionist as well.

Finally, they checked me.

"Oh!  You're dilated to a SIX!  Your contractions are pretty sporadic, but apparently that doesn't mean anything for you!"

Apparently not.

Click to read Part Two.

Smooch's Birth Story - Part 3

Be sure to read part 1 and part 2 of Smooch's birth story before reading this.  This is the third and final part of the story:

It was about 10:30 p.m. and I finally had a room of my own.  However, I was still not able to labor in peace. Nope.  Between contractions I had to tell the nurse my date of birth five times, as well as answer a montage of other irritating questions that no one should ever ask a woman while she's in labor.  The whole time I kept thinking, What is the point of pre-registration if you still don't know my date of birth!?  My Stud tried to answer for me on a few occassions while I took slow, deep, concentrated breaths.  He wasn't allowed  to do that though, so we continued this little dance of question, contraction, answer for the next 30 or 40 minutes.

All I wanted to do was walk.  Contractions are so much easier to handle from a standing position.  After being told that I could not get up and walk around because I had to be on the monitor (they were determined to keep the baby inside my body), I informed our nurse that I would like a wireless monitor then.  I was also reminded for the third for fourth time that I was welcome to an epidural.  I believe my response was polite but pionted.  I may have asked her not to mention it again. Or maybe I just thought it in my head.

The nurse took her time getting the wireless equipment.  By the time I was hooked up and mobile it was after 11 p.m.  I still wasn't finished with the check-in process so between contractions and walking, I had to sign some papers.  Amazingly, I even stood there and read them before signing.

I had to go to the bathroom, but only got a tiny trickle to come out.  I had only been out of the bed for about 5 minutes, when it no longer felt good to walk through contractions.  Really, walking felt awful.  Contractions were 4 to 5 minutes apart.  Right before My Stud helped me climb onto the bed, my legs started to tremble with enough power to give me flashbacks of my unpleasant previous birth experience.  For the first time during this labor, I felt frightened.  I was just waiting for that "out of control, buried underneath a wall of pain" feeling that I remembered so clearly.  I began to question my absurd decision to refuse medication.  However, I didn't have to time to contemplate it more than a moment because my contractions started coming fast enough that I just closed my eyes and pressed my head into the upright mattress.   Try as I may, I was no longer able to focus on relaxing during the contractions.

I thought I was screaming, but My Stud later informed me that I was only moaning.  Moaning and panting.  Still I was sure they could hear me down the hall.  The pediatric nurse was the only medical personnel in the room.  She was still working on finishing all of our paperwork - this time for the baby - asking more questions in the 30-second intervals between contractions.  To my relief, she finally stopped talking to me and called my nurse.

Then a strange thing happened.  My hands and feet started to go numb.  It moved to my arms and legs.  I stared in disbelief as my fingers curled up, my hands rendered completely useless.  What's wrong with my hands!?  Mortified, I told Clay to rub my hands, hoping he would bring some life back into them.  I literally couldn't move them or grab anything. 

As soon as she walked in, I said with a calmness that surprised myself, "A head.  I feel a head. Moving down.  A head.  She's coming."  These nurses were in the business of not believing what a laboring woman says.   

For the first time since triage, they checked my cervix at my insistence.  Much less calm than I, the nurse exclaimed, "She's complete!  She's complete! Call the doctor!"

All the while, I was demanding that someone figure out why my hands were shriveling up.  Again, I found myself a bit frightened.  The nurse (who proved herself to be a bit on the ditzy side) couldn't figure it out.  The pediatric nurse, almost shouted, "Oxygen!  She needs oxygen!"

All of a sudden, the place turned into a war zone.  It seems there are few medical emergencies like childbirth.  Or so you would have thought to see and hear those nurses.  Tables were wheeled in, things were flung about, paper crinkled, gloves snapped into place, I was quickly rearranged.  Lots of speaking in hurried, worrisome tones.  People that I had never met scurried around the room in an almost panicked state. 

As the baby moved down the birth canal, my water burst, and projected itself all over the floor.  I could tell that her head was about two inches away.  More distressed voices.  "Do not slip!  We have water all over the floor.  Be careful!"  More scurrying.  A random doctor whose job is not to deliver babies rushed into the room - Dr. Thrift.  How appropriate. 

With the oxygen mask on, my fingers loosened up so I could open and cose my hands again,  and I began to get the feeling back in my hands and feet.  The nurse removed the mask.

I needed to push.  I don't think anyone actually told me to push.  I might have asked if I could.  I can't remember.  All I know is that as a contraction came, I pushed like my entire life hung on that one moment.  It burned, and I could feel every pull and stretch.  I didn't care if I pushed so hard that I tore.  I wanted it to be over and over quickly! 

With that first push, her head emerged.  By the sounds of the exclamations that ensued, you would have thought the nurses had never witnessed a birth before this moment.  Before that contraction was over, I pushed again even harder, with new strength and courage like the sprint at the end of a marathon.  Out came her shoulders. She was out.  She was OUT!? 

She wanted to be born before Christmas.  It was 11:29 p.m. on Christmas Eve, 8 days after the doctor's due date, 5 days after the due date I calculated, almost exactly 2 1/2 hours after we first strolled into triage, one hour after I was given a room, and 10 or 15 minutes after I decided that walking during contractions felt terrible.  Her name means.  "Christ's birth" and "God is gracious." 

The first thing I thought was, She's smaller than her sister.  She looks different than her sister.  All I could say was "That's it!?"  (I was in shock at how quickly she came.) Followed by "Hi baaaaby. Give her to me!"  Or something very similar.  However, since I was apparently still in need of the oxygen mask, My Stud had to help me hold her because I found that my fingers were stiffly curled up once again. Once again the nurse gave me the oxygen mask.

I wanted to know how badly I tore. "You didn't."

After I was able to hold her on my own, My Stud grabbed the camera.  He took several shots before he realized there was no memory card in it.   That is why there aren't any pictures (save one on Clay's phone) that prove the oxygen mask ordeal.

(For stat lovers like me, you should know that Smooch weighed 7 lbs. 9 oz. and was 21 inches long.)

I imagine there is no high as invigorating as an adrenalin high.  If it wasn't for the fact that I was bleeding more than a person is supposed to bleed after birth (due to Smooch's quick arrival), I would have called everyone myself and told them the whole story.  However, I left most of that to My Stud because I was busy getting drunk on pain meds and being worked on (or more accurately worked in) by a doctor who was visibly unhappy to be doing something (again) that was not her job.  Nope, I did not accept medication for labor and delivery, but there was no way I was letting anything back inside that very sore area without some serious drugging.  Even with the meds, it hurt enough to take my breath away.

After nursing, eating some fruit, and lots of waiting, a new nurse wheeled me off to our postpartum room.  As we said goodbye to my previous nurse, who was still marveling at the events she just witnessed, I'm not sure if I told her "You're welcome" or if I only thought it in my head.

I couldn't get over how thankful I felt for an amazing birthing experience.  I was also thankful that I followed my instincts to go to the hospital when we did.  If we had waited until my contractions were 4 - 5 minutes apart, like many professionals recommend, we would have had Smooch in the car, pulled over to the side of the road somewhere between here and there.

I also learned that if a birth experience like that is the result of a baby being really, truly ready to come, I'd take a "late" baby any day.  But...don't quote me on that. ;-)

Smooch's Birth Story - Part 2

This is a continued story of my second daughter's birth story.  Part 1 can be found here.

______________________________

Then I took a bath. After all, if I was going to bare my pale, veiny legs, they were certainly going to be shaved, pale, veiny legs. Let's not be silly. Upon entering the tub, however, my relief from pain was so great that I began to panic. I shaved as quickly as a whale possibly can and stumbled out, obsessively timing contractions all the while. They weren't as strong as they had been before I got into the tub, and they weren't quite as close together. I wondered out loud to My Stud if he should recant his request for his mom to arrive early. Instead of doing that, he double-checked our bags, and repacked our toiletries. I walked. I was determined to kick those labor pains back into high gear.

It worked. And I will happily tell you that there is nothing that makes a woman embrace pain like a good, long pregnancy. I wanted everything to hurt and pull and ache. Today pain meant that we were getting somewhere. And for reasons that I will not write on my blog, I knew we needed to get to the hospital soon. I hoped my mother-in-law was speeding...just a little.

She arrived. I paced. Then to prove that I'm still slightly neurotic while in labor, I gave instructions like "this is where we keep Princess's gigantic stash of underwear." I paced some more. I could no longer talk during contractions. They were (still) 7 to 8 minutes apart, not close enough to go to the hospital in my opinion so I thought that maybe we would walk around near the hospital, but not actually in it.

On our way, My Stud wondered if he could stop and get coffee. You see, the last time we did this with Princess, it was an all-night ordeal, and I am married to a morning person. Of course we could get coffee. We had tons of time. As I sat waiting for My Stud and his coffee in the car, I couldn't help but notice the disgusting couple making out in the small pickup to my right. Like really nasty making out. As if the baby was as repulsed as I was, my contractions suddenly got stronger. I so badly wanted to get out of the car, tap on their window, and invite them to watch me labor in case they were thinking of doing more than make out in that parking lot. Before I finished contemplating the heroic implications of  carrying out such a civil duty, My Stud was back with his coffee, I was having another contraction  (now 6 - 7 minutes apart), and we were off - straight to the hospital.

We arrived at about 9:00 p.m. Triage impersonated a waiting room. I contracted in a bed, and controlled my desire to start demanding things like wireless monitors and a room. I asked over and over and over when I could get on antibiotics (I tested positive for group b strep, and you're supposed to recieve two full doses of antibiotics before the birth which requires four hours of time.) We must have been there for an entire hour before anyone bothered to check my cervix. It was only at that point that they declared I was in labor. Interestingly, the nurses finally felt motivated to stick an iv in my arm and begin my first dose of antibiotics.  I had some choice words in mind regarding their speed and lack of attention that begged to come out of my mouth, but I bit my tongue.  After all, that particular nurse was about halfway through a pregnancy herself and that was enough retribution to satisfy me.

I was dilated to 6 cm. For the first time, I actually began to truly, honestly believe that I could do this thing without medication.

An hour and a half after checking in at triage, I was finally wheeled into my room. Guys.  I want to walk!  I later discovered that they were trying to slow down my labor to ensure that I was able to receive both doses of the antibiotic before baby time. They did this by keeping me immobile.

To be continued...

Smooch's Birth Story - Part 1

I am FINALLY getting around to writing down Smoochie's birth story.  In a conversation with My Stud the other day, I realized that I had better buckle down and do it because I couldn't remember off the top of my head the precise time our little princess made her entrance.  So without further ado, here is part one:

Photo by Debbie Kilduff  at Sonoran Lane Photography

My mom had come and gone.  After all, it was two days before Christmas and she needed to get home to her other children.  A week is a long time to wait for a baby who is already past due.  So I hugged my mother, Princess hugged her grandma and "roommate," and My Stud loaded her luggage in the truck and took her to the airport. 

More waiting.  More resisting the urge to time contractions.  Even though this baby seemed to be happily nestled - or shall we say crammed -  inside my belly, I felt like I had been in and out of labor for days.  Contractions were growing in intensity daily, bringing unwelcome flashbacks of the arduous, painstaking labor that brought us our first daughter.  (Pitocin is the devil and don't let anyone talk you into it.  But if anyone does talk you into it,even if you had some ideal of doing it without meds, please feel completely free of guilt when you accept the epidural.  And don't bother waiting until you feel like climbing up the side of the bed.  I digress...)

Midnight.

My contractions became painful enough to wake me.  They're were close enough together to keep me from falling asleep.  I walked.  I layed.  They didn't cease and they didn't ease up.  I think I told My Stud at some point.   Then I took a bath.  Enveloped in warm water, my contractions felt so much less intense, and found myself wishing that I was having a water birth.  Lost in thought, it took me awhile to realize that my contractions were getting shorter, weaker, and farther apart.  No!  I immediately got out of the bathtub.  By this time, My Stud had already checked off the remaining items on our packing list.  The one that we had been adding to for a couple of weeks out of sheer boredom.

Nope. My contractions were not returning to their previous strength and duration.  I still timed them religiously.  By now, it was about 4 a.m.  Dejected, I decided to lay down on the couch to catch a few winks before the sun came up.

It was Christmas Eve.

When I woke up three hours later, there was no sign of an even a single Braxton Hicks.

I don't remember what we did most of that day.   I wanted to throw things at any woman who had ever given birth to a child before the due date.  That, and we decided for sure that, baby or no baby, we would not be attending the family Christmas Eve celebration or Christmas day brunch.  There was a mild virus going around the family, and though it was not a big deal, we didn't want Princess nice and sick just in time to welcome her baby sister into the family.  Likewise, at that point, the mere thought of pushing out a baby while under the weather was almost enough to render me unconscious.  It was a hard decision, laced with guilt.  But thankfully the side of me that is not a people pleaser is most pronouced late in pregnancy, so that helped my resolve to make a necessary decision to protect our new little one.  You know.  If she ever decided to show up.

3:00 p.m.

This is where my memory kicks into high gear.  My Stud was on the couch, taking advantage of Princess's naptime to catch up on some missed sleep from the night before.  I was busy writing out Christmas cards to all the family members we would be missing.  (We had planned to give framed family photos with our two daughters for our we-can't-afford-real-Christmas-gifts-because-we're-moving-in-two-weeks Christmas gifts.  But since that was not to be...yet...we decided to send some pretty cards in our absence.)

During the card writing, it was the same old story: contractions, trying not to time them in order to keep my sanity, more contractions.  Okay.  It was starting to feel a lot better to get up and walk around between cards.  I was as determined to finish the cards as I was to not be fooled by yet another false labor.  Hmm...I have to go to the bathroom, followed by, Weird.  I usually only get the runs once or twice a year.  I hope i'm not coming down with something.  Ooo I'll be just ticked!

I think I waited until My Stud woke up from his nap.  Then I told him something about not getting his hopes up, but I'd been having awful contractions for the past hour and if this isn't the real thing then I'm going to rip out my hair.   More contractions, more walking.  Walking felt sooo good.

When Princess woke up, we decided to deliver our cards for the Christmas Eve party at My Stud's dad's house.  And then we'd visit for a hour or two before the party.  While we were there, we opened a few gifts.  I do remember that part, though some other details are fuzzy.  Mind you, I was up and down with each contraction because I so dispised sitting during them.  I especially remember Princess getting a adorable, sweet-smelling baby doll.  I kept thinking, I hope I'll be getting one of those today too!

Some time after 6 p.m. I was pretty sure this was the real thing, and I announced that I was ready to go home.  After I ate a Christmas cookie. 

Once home, things got progressively worse quickly enough that I informed My Stud he had better see if his mom could come over a littler earlier than previously discussed (she lives almost an hour away).  And that was probably the best decision of the night.

To be continued...