I woke up Tuesday morning a total grump. It was a rough night of kids crying to crawl into our bed and moving into hysterics when we moved them back into their own. There is only so much 'cuddling' I can handle at 9 months pregnant, and my kids are sprawlers, which doesn't allow for anyone to really sleep comfortably.
This particular Tuesday morning happened to be my scheduled due date, and I was in no mood to share my precious bed space with anything other than my gigantic stomach. I didn't realize it then, as I lay in bed crampy and grumpy, unwilling to admit the day had begun and stuffing a pillow over my head, but labour had begun.
James was in game mode- rushing to put his tie on, and barely glanced over when I said- " this baby is coming today."
I mean, I barely heard it myself, being stuffed under my pillow, and not believing it anyways. I just thought it would be fun to throw James' off a little.
Then the kids rushed in, and James rushed out, and my pillow didn't hide me half as well as I thought. Time to get up.
This is when things got interesting. Apparently, in the getting up, my water 'broke' or half broke, and I was startled by the painful cramps of pre-labour. Time to start panicking.
I wasn't packed (despite James' badgering over the past week) the kids weren't packed, the house was a disaster (we were recovering from the flu, remember!?) and I had absolutely no idea how I was going to get it together with James at work and two demanding toddlers scrambling around my ankles.
I pitched my previous game plan (which was to have a super stay at home cleaning kind of day) and opted to call my mom. She came over that morning, bearing donuts and coffee. Blessed Relief. The whole morning I felt 'off', but with work to do, I didn't dwell on it, and we tackled organizing and cleaning a substantial amount. Mom continued to spoil all of us, whipping out to A & W to grab delicious fast food for lunch, and then we resumed the cleaning- 'we' being relative, because at this point, I was having to stop and lean my head against the wall while my stomach tightened into a cannonball, and my kids fought over a bouncy ball, and mom carried on with her mission to make our rooms presentable for the newest addition. God bless her.
Around 4, I thought I'd give the hospital a call, just to see if my water potentially breaking was of any significance to them-- and as it turned out-- yes, in fact, it was, and I should really get my butt over there ASAP so they could check things out. SO, mad scramble to pack up the kids, call up James, and pack the 'in case' over night bag if things really got rolling.
Despite some maddening traffic, we got to the hospital at 5:30 pm, discovered my 'membranes had ruptured (fancy way of saying my water kind of broke) and were presented with two options. Since I wasn't even in the ball park of being in real labour yet, I could get induced, or go back to Hamilton (with the threat of being induced in the morning). We opted to walk around Beamsville in the rain and grab dinner. I may have gone into panic mode at the word 'induced' (see post on Jesse's birth story, if you are curious at that reaction) and so a walk in the cold rain felt delicious. During said walk, my water fully broke, contractions came every 2 1/2 minutes, and became increasingly difficult to walk through. We ended up back in the hospital a half an hour later.
I think the nurse was shocked, because she had just sent us packing back to Hamilton, but I told her in no uncertain terms that this baby was on its way. She gave me one of those dainty little hospital gowns, and a bouncy ball, and pretty much left us to our own devices. I heard a lot in the next 30 minutes about 'climbing that mountain-- getting to the peak-- and climbing back down'.. nonsense really, but surprsingly helpful. Also helpful that James was there to rub my back, and let me bruise the crap out of his hand while I 'climbed that contracting mountain'.
After half an hour, the climbing turned into pushing, and I found myself on the bed, ready for the last, and most painful stage of labour. In 20 minutes, it was over. There was a brief scare in the middle, when the babies heart rate dropped, and Dr. Nwebube raced out to grab some forceps. I think it was a tactic, because the sight of that forced me to practically pop my head off pushing- and soon after, at 7:47 pm, to be exact, my girl was born, unassisted.
And she's a beauty. A dark head of hair, dark skin, 8lbs even, with a lusty cry, and a healthy dose of both Harskamp and Sikkema. Everything about her seems strong and sturdy and beautiful. We are thrilled that she is healthy, and here. Especially that she is here, and the fear of giving birth is behind me. Hallelujah!
These moments in life are very special to me. I get to see and experience the miracle of a life God created, and to receive the gift of a child God gave specifically to us, for His purpose, and His glory. And now we are home with this new little person, Jesse and Anneliese are (mercifully) still with their loving grandma, and I am just soaking up this clean, quiet living space, with my clean, quiet little baby. She has been so good so far, or maybe I'm just a little more experienced- but either way, life for us Harskamps has changed again. And if there is one thing I really do love, it's a bit of change every now and then :)
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