My darling third born child turned 3 a few weeks ago. Heaven help us...a mantra we mothers share goes, "Three is worse than two." Terribles two's? Ain't nothin' compared to the Threatening Three's (yes, I just made that up)! Anywho, she requested a Barbie cake for her birthday. Oddly enough, I made one of these for Alayna's 3rd birthday, 4 1/2 years ago. This experience was over-all a more pleasant one. (Maren added the pretty stars to the dress.)
The births of Alayna and Isaac were both induced. Two different methods of induction, two different reasons. I was quite dissatisfied with both experiences. I mean, I loved the end results, two adorably sweet babies. But I thought I could have something better the third time. Derek and I took hypnobirthing classes, and while I can't completely speak for him, I loved what I learned. I was prepared for this very special moment where I could welcome my baby into the world on her own schedule and without interventions and medications. Just like Mother Eve, right? Well, almost....
Alayna was 8 days overdue when she made her arrival into the world, so I was prepared to go over 40 weeks gestation and let Maren come when it was her time (truthfully, I didn't believe it would take that long). Alayna's birth was 7 hours and Isaac's 5; therefore I was preparing for about a 3-4 hour labor for my third delivery. (I can hear some of you moms groaning in the background; sorry, my body gets babies out fast!) We were prepared for that golden window of time when the contractions were just getting intense enough where talking and walking weren't doable. As much as I felt I was prepared to commit to the baby coming at her discretion, on the 7th day after my due date we told the doctor we'd be willing to concede to minimal induction methods, because really, life has to go on! You can't play the waiting game forever. He scheduled a time for me to go to the hospital at 7 a.m. on May 14, 2008, but he believed I'd be going to the hospital on my own before that time. We spent that evening packing our bags and getting ready to be at St. Luke's at 7 o'clock the following morning.
I finally got to bed around 11 p.m., nothing out-of-ordinary happening with my uterus. I woke up at 1 a.m. with what I'd finally been waiting for, those contractions that were getting the baby ready for delivery. The plan was to labor at home as long as necessary, waiting for that aforementioned golden little window to signal to us the time to depart. I decided to get in the shower and relax as much as possible. When I'd had enought hot water I got out and dressed, and the surges started to pick up the pace at a rapid clip. Finally, around 1:45 I woke up Derek. He was pretty groggy, but when he saw me kneeling at the side of bed doing some intense breathing exercises he got his shorts on and rushed Alayna and Isaac to his brother's home just a hop, skip, and a jump from our apartment. While he was gone, at 2 a.m. on the nose, I felt a tiny little 'pop' and knew my water had broken and I got off the couch in time to prevent it from being soaked with unmentionable bodily fluids. He returned just after that, and I had a hard time walking or breathing, not just during the contractions, but at all. He got me to the van and zipped 80-90 m.p.h. through downtown Boise, running stop signs and red lights all over the place. Thank heavens it was the middle of the night.
When I was rolled into the E.R. and placed on a gurney, a nurse surpisingly announced to the rest of us the baby was already crowning. Just like in a movie, a (shrieking) pregnant lady was rushed down the hall on a gurney with a staff of nurses, personnel, and a husband trying to get her to L&D. (A nurse even lost a shoe in the sprint, I'm not joking.) Once in a room, a peak under the drape disclosed that a head was already out. (I'm telling you, reader, that I was NOT pushing. This shows the amazing feat the female body is capable of, that we call "birth.") The nurses rolled me over on my side, said "PUSH!", and voila, out came a 6 lb. 11 oz. bundle of Maren. One push. The nurses were so anxious examining the baby and myself to make sure we weren't under any trauma they forgot to check the time of delivery. A few minutes after the fact, they decided that 2:15 a.m. was a good enough approximation of Maren's arrival.
The 3-4 hour labor and delivery I had anticipated happened in 1 hr 15 minutes. I used to think, "Wow, that's one crazy birth story I get to claim," but after getting to know my second daughter better, I realized that's how Maren does everything! Independently and on her own time table.
I love you so much, girl! Don't forget, I'm one of the good guys!
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