Practice labor and the looks....

I thought yesterday was going to be the day.  Saturday night I had a really bad back ache and was up for almost the entire night with contractions.  Lately, I haven’t been sleeping much anyway, but Saturday night my contractions were so regularly I started sending myself a text message with the time that each contraction started, just so I could begin monitoring them.  On a side note, I’ve realized, that I have so many contractions that I don’t even register them anymore.  As labor approaches, I have to purposefully remind myself that I need to be monitoring their frequency because I’ve just come to have contractions as a normal part of my life.

I finally fell asleep Sunday morning around 4:30 only to see that with the rising sun around 5:15, Isabelle was up.  At this point, I’ve come to dread the evenings and night, so I woke up and thought, we’ll we shouldn’t have any excuse for being late to church this week.  Isabelle and I started getting ready for church around 5:30 and I was pretty much ready to go to our 8:00 church service by 6:30 a.m. I felt fine until after I ate breakfast.  About 10 minutes after eating my contractions picked up again and I thought, we’ll I probably need to pee.  Turns out I was wrong.  Soon thereafter my contractions strengthened again not only in frequency but also in intensity.  Gabriel was watching TV in our bedroom and I was in the bathroom.  For all those mom’s who’ve experienced labor, maybe you recall the kind of contractions that the only way to get through them is through deep breaths and sighs or almost moans?  Yep, that was this type of contraction.  I didn’t say anything to anyone, and stood at the sink in the bathroom trying to get through each one.  Gabriel must have heard me even over his TV show because he disappeared out of the room (to tell Dad) and soon Dad was back.  He asked me if I was okay, to which I replied, “Please don’t talk to me.” in a stern and very serious voice.  It was all I could do just to focus on breathing through the contractions.  Jarrett, quickly left the room, sent the boys outside to play so the fighting and screaming from Isabelle as Michael irritated her, didn’t bother me.  That must have been the meaning he got out of “Don’t talk to me!”  I’m thankful he knows me so well. 

A few minutes later he cautiously entered the bedroom again and asked if I needed anything?  “Should I call my parents to come down?” At this point I realized that even if it was the start of real labor, it would probably have been hours before we needed to go to the hospital anyway.  While my body is “transitioning” for labor, it takes a long time to get to the point of being able to actually deliver and I knew we weren’t ready to go to the hospital.  I told him not yet and went back to swaying back and forth as I leaned on the bathroom counter, trying to breathe through each one. 

It’s amazing to me that one’s body does a great job at protecting our memory so we don’t remember the actual feel of pain after wards. However, as I stood at the counter wondering if this was really it, I was taken back to labor with Noah.  Yep, pretty much felt the same way… only my reality is, the pain has to get worse, way worse, before the wonderful prize at the end.  What’s also amazing to me is that it seems our bodies are naturally programmed to respond and just “take over” what they need to do to get through the challenge.  I just pray the same thing happens in the next couple of days, before induction would be fabulous!

The minutes ticked by and soon it was 2.5 hours later, yep we completely missed church, I finally was able to lay down in our bed and try to relax.  The contractions had been as close as every 6 minutes apart but as I laid down I noticed they started to stretch out again.  The next thing I realized I woke up, after having fallen asleep for about 20 minutes.  Jarrett had come in and covered me with a blanket and I guess after being up all night and dealing with the pain of 2 plus hours of vice grips raging across and down my stomach, I was able to sleep.  When I woke up, I got up and went to get some water, Jarrett was playing with Isabelle in her room and came out to see how I was.  I told him I felt better and that I think the contractions slowed down. 

It turns out it was I guess just false labor (although it sure felt like a warm up for the real deal), as the rest of the afternoon things never returned to the same intensity as they had been earlier.  That being said, I was pretty wiped out.  The boys came back inside after a while and were obviously doing their best to be quiet and to see how I was.  I realized, last time they never saw me in labor so to them this whole “labor and contraction” thing is kind of a mystery.  As lunch time approached I tried to find energy to get off the couch to make something for the family.  That’s when the idea popped into my head, we should just go out to eat.  Sounded like a much better plan.  It turns out yesterday was national Chocolate Chip Cookie day, and given that those are one of my favorite desserts, I said let’s go to Paradise Bakery (they have wonderful cookies).  Jarrett, was originally going to go to work yesterday and he was still debating about going to a coffee shop nearby to get some work done, but I think the episode in the morning made him second guess that choice, so instead he stayed home.  We all went together to the restaurant and walking in as a family of 5 (obviously soon-to-be 6) Jarrett got to experience the looks I often get when the kids and I go to the grocery store.  They often come from every direction… from the store clerks, to the other patrons.  The looks are very similar in nature… while I don’t know exactly what words are in their heads, I’m about 99% confident the thoughts that non-verbally the messages they communicate across their face are something like this… “Have you ever heard of birth control?”  “How many children do you have?”  “How old are you?” “Can you afford all of those children?”  “How in the world can you care or love that many children?” 

As we sat at the one table of 6 in the entire restaurant, I looked around to see every other table filled.  The kids were VERY well behaved, eating their lunch quietly, with decent manners (I doubt I’ll ever have to stop reminding them to close their mouths while they chew and to put their napkins on their laps) but overall they were great.  It just so happened the table we sat at was right at the exit to the restaurant so as everyone left we were on full display.  I tried not to look as people walked by and it was first noticed by the boys.  Normal people watchers, they scanned each person as they left and with one obvious reaction across their faces, I glanced over at the elderly couple walking out the door.  I saw the look too, but decided not to say anything.  Then one of the workers from the store came over and started clearing one of the tables next to us.  Isabelle announced at this point she had to go to the restroom so Jarrett jumped up to take her.  I watched as he walked away and saw him notice the look on the employees face, it was the same look the elderly couple had given us.  A few minutes later when he returned to the table I decided to ask.  “What do you think of that  look you got?”  While I didn’t say it very loudly, he was sitting right next to me, the boy’s ears (the ones who normally can’t hear me call for them from the couch as I stand 3 feet away), perked up.  They interjected, “Mom, did you see the mean look that one lady gave us?” – Michael said.  Then Gabriel chimed in, “What did we do wrong to deserve that?”  Hearing them talk, I soon realized, I shouldn’t have said anything as I didn’t mean to have the kids notice, but I guess they noticed themselves.  Jarrett knew immediately what I was talking about, what the boys were mentioning and he said, “They don’t know us, our story or what we want. We have the life we want, that’s our business, not theirs.”  While he didn’t say it rudely, it was clear I was in someone else’s business instead of my own (as Laurie would say).   And he’s exactly right.  None of those strangers know our story, know what we’ve been through to try and become parents and none of them know that to me our story is a great one… that brought together a family, not all connected by blood, but one all connected by love.  The bottom line is, everyone has the right to have the "family" they want and for some that means 5 children, others 1 child and some no children... there is no one right way or wrong way, there is only the way that's right for each of us.  I need to remember this.

I’m sure after sweetie pie makes her debut and this summer as I venture out with the 4 kids, the looks are going to be abundant.  I just need to remind myself, their opinions don’t matter.  I have the life I’ve always dreamed of, the craziness I prayed for, and that together we may not be perfect, but we try and we love one another.  That’s the most important thing.

Oh and as I conclude I found this cartoon several months ago and took a picture of it because I knew someday I was gonna need a reminder of just what to say when someone said, “How can you split your love between 4 (or actually 5) children?”

How do you divide your love among four children?

I don't divide it.  I multiply it.  

Until next time,

Angie