Calm in the Chaos

Babe is ten days old, things are mostly good, save a bout of mastitis, and the usual bleeding nipples and sleep deprivation. Trying to work on a birth story.

Finally

Atlas Constantine Boddy. More to come. 

Still got nothin'

So. Here we are, at the eve of 42 weeks. Wow. Today was actually a good day. Another NST under my belt this morning. Same old thing. Midwife agreed that waiting another day was a sound decision. Did a check, and finally finally finally my cervix appears to be functioning. We're at 3cm now, which is a relief. Still, we waited today and nothing much happened, which means we take the nuclear option in the morning: Artificial rupture of membranes and another round of castor oil and hope for the best.

I feel great, actually. I get to meet my baby tomorrow. I GET TO MEET MY BABY TOMORROW! Somehow or other I will meet my silly little stubborn baby tomorrow.

See you on the flip side!

No news is bad news...

So. I am still pregnant. No, I don't entirely believe it either. 41 weeks, 5 days, no signs of anything changing now or any time in the near future.

Yesterday was okay. We had a BPP ultrasound and he was the most boring perfect beautiful little thing ever. It was my first time having a late term ultrasound, as Tycho was born before his BPP appointment, and they are strange. Hard to see much of anything, really. But they did they 3D of his face and... he looks exactly like Tycho. And had an estimated weight 9lbs, 4oz, which the tech was afraid to tell me. But been there, done that, no big deal. Yesterday I had a lot of contractions but they never organized themselves into anything productive. But it was an okay day. I didn't feel like the world was ending or any crazy talk.

Today is a different story. Today was castor oil day. You'd think at this far along on my second pregnancy that there is no way castor oil wouldn't work. But I've had not one but two doses of the stuff today, and nothing. Nothing at all, nothing nothing nothing. And sitting around waiting for labor to start is a completely different thing than trying to kickstart it and epicly failing, so today I'm much less stoic about the whole situation. Third day of tears since my due date past, which is still a pretty great track record. But really, what the hell? There is no reason in the universe that this shouldn't have worked but it didn't, and normally I buy into that whole thing where my body knows what it's doing and to trust that things will happen when the time is right, but it's really hard to continue to believe that right now.

The original plan was for tomorrow to be artificial rupture of membranes day, but since my body has responded to nothing at all in the appropriate fashion, I think I'd like to put it off until Monday morning, so if I don't go into labor that my hospital transfer goes a little more smoothly... Another NST in the morning, so we'll see...

Uncharted Territory

At this point in my last pregnancy, 41+2, I was in labor.

I am not currently in labor.

I am not doing so good. I've really managed to keep this hysterical sobbing thing under control this time around, but we are now venturing into the unknown and I am freaked right the fuck out. I have a biophysical profile ultrasound scheduled for Friday. I had one scheduled with Tycho, too, but he was born before we had to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to drink castor oil, I don't want someone to break my water, I definitely don't want my baby delivered by a doctor I've never met in a hospital room I've never seen. I don't want an IV or labor inducing drugs. It may not be accurate, but I feel like not being in labor right now means that all these things are inevitable. Officially I have five more days, but I feel like I've run out of time.

It's not supposed to happen like this. My first baby was late because he was my first, but my second is supposed to be easier. Everyone assured me that he would show up in a timely manner with no shenanigans. Because number two.  But here we are.

41

Aaaaand here we are again. I'm overdue. Really overdue. A week, today. I don't know why I thought things would be any different this time, but I did and now I'm bummed because they aren't. Even my midwife was like pffft you won't go that long the second time. But here we are. To be fair, baby still has a couple more days to beat his big brother in punctuality, but at this point I still don't feel like anything is even imminent, and maybe he will turn out to be even more stubborn. Great.

It's interesting how different my feelings are about it this time, though. With Tycho these days past my due date dragged on and on and on forever and I was a miserable mess of tears and hysterics and every moment was an eternity.

This time it's the exact opposite. Time is just flying by. I have no idea how it's already a week past my due date, and it certainly doesn't feel like there is enough time left for me to into labor and have a baby before I hit that all important 42 week deadline. Time is moving too fast for me to have a baby by then. So my panicking is of a different nature. And fortunately, it is more in the background, because hey, I have a three year old, sobbing breakdowns just aren't on my agenda so much right now.


Anyhow. That's the boring boring still pregnant update. Hopefully there is more exciting news soon.