The Birth of Ruth (Prequel): The Waiting Game

After Lucy's early arrival, it should serve as no surprise that I went into a hormonal nesting craze during our 36th week of pregnancy. Grammy Erlys (Justin's mom) drove up from California and moved into our basement. We inventoried our supplies, inflated the birth tub, stocked our freezer...and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Ironically, the longer I was pregnant, the more my anxiety grew about Ruth's arrival. Everyone warned me the second birth can go really fast, especially given how straightforward my first labor was. So, each night I'd put Lucy to bed as an only child, wondering whether or not she'd wake up with a sibling. And then each morning I'd wake up...still pregnant.

Lucy "helping" the midwives check in on her baby sister during our 36 week prenatal appointment.

I tried my best to reframe my experience in my mind - I honestly had no idea my body could grow a baby this long! I marveled at the way my skin continued to stretch and my organs rearranged, accommodating this miraculously still-growing creature.

As the weeks progressed, however, my emotional discomfort began to supersede even my physical discomfort. I struggled with feeling like everyone was waiting for something I clearly had no control over. Erlys had already been with us for weeks and still no baby! 

So, we tried some "labor encouragement" tricks: spicy food, fresh pineapple, walking, acupuncture, climbing the stairs at "Mt. Labor" (Tabor), more walking, dancing, power shopping through Costco, even more walking...along with a few other things ;). I declined my midwife's offer to sweep my membranes at our 39 week appointment, but told myself I would allow this intervention if I still hadn't gone into labor by my next appointment - which was on my due date.

The night before this scheduled appointment, my anxiety was particularly high. It may seem silly given how standard they are in most hospital birthing experiences, but I'd never had a cervical check before and was really dreading what I anticipated would feel like a harsh, invasive experience if I chose to sweep my membranes. Positional and bodily autonomy (ahem, and the absence of stirrups) are just some of the many luxuries of a Home Birth experience.

Luckily, as is often the case with anxiety, my worries were needless...