Woke up at midnight last night with what I believed - but not altogether sure - to be contractions. Woke up is a term I use loosely since I'd only been asleep about 45 minutes at that point. You'd think by the third time around I'd be somewhat knowledgable about these things but truth is I still don't know nothin' bout birthin' no babies.
William's birth was textbook. At just shy of 38 weeks, early in the morning, my water broke. It was kind of like the movies. "Honey, my water broke. It's time." And off we went to the hospital. After a relatively short and painless labor (thanks to the epidural I got as we were walking in the door) our sweet boy came quickly into the world. I even had on lipstick. He had a perfectly formed head, beautiful pink skin and they wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in my arms. It was just sweet.
Catherine's birth was a little stressful to say the least, but the actual delivery was fine. I was induced, so I never had contractions to begin with. After an 8 hour labor, somewhat miraculously and despite what doctors had prepared us for, our sweet girl was born breathing, crying, and as healthy as we could have imagined.
This time, however, I'm at a loss. I went back to the Dr. this morning, sure that my all night long contractions had made some progress and I was positive I was in labor. But no. Was told to go back home and wait. And wait. And wait some more. And don't come back until it's the real thing. I thought it was. What do I know.
So here I sit, waiting and wondering if my eviction notice was effective. And it's about as exciting as watching paint dry. All this on about 3 hours sleep. I'm so much fun to be around right now.