I think I can fairly say I am in labor now. (Eeee!!!) The contractions started getting closer together last night around midnight, and now they're anywhere from seven to 12 minutes apart, which is not close enough to go to the hospital but close enough to qualify as early labor, especially since they're kind of intense, especially in my back. Steve massages my lower back when they come, and it makes a huge difference. We didn't sleep much last night, and I've been napping a lot today, and it's all a bit surreal, the waiting and watching and feeling things change in my body. Of course, this could stall out and I'll still be here (ouch ... contraction here ... oooooooooooo) Monday, but I think the Lemmondrop is on the move.
We did go to the hospital this morning, though. Not because of the contractions but because I seemed to be bleeding a lot. Like, a lot more than the books say is normal for the bloody show. Fresh, red blood that fell in clots into the toilet, like I was having my period. I called the Birth Center and the nurse triage line at my OB's office, and they both sounded a little freaked out by it and said I should come in to get checked. So we did, and I lay there for 45 minutes strapped to a monitor, which revealed that I was indeed having contractions and that the baby's heart rate is just fine, and the nurse checked me out and said she thinks I might just be a heavy bleeder, but nothing to worry about. Our OB was in the hospital, so he stopped in to say hi, too. And then they sent us home.
For some reason last night, as I was lying awake between contractions thinking about all that was happening, something popped into my head that our Irish tour guide, Kate, used to say on our pilgrimage around Ireland last summer. Whenever it was time to get moving, she'd say, "OK, family, we go!" ... Not "Let's go," or "Time to go," or "Here we go." Just, "We go," in her charming, Irish lilt. And how could you not love that she called us "family" and not "folks" or "people" or "everyone"? For the 10 days we were on that trip, she made us feel like family. So now, Kate's voice is in my head — Kate, who a few days ago sent an e-mail letting us know that she has a candle lit for us on the other side of the world, waiting for word. It's her words I think about now. OK, family. We go.
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6 comments:
Good luck and Godspeed! I hope that you can see the light in the pain and the blessing in the work that you are going to be doing. I can't wait to meet Lemmondrop. Good luck and stay strong! I know you can do it!
Oh YAY! I am holding out that he will be born on our anniversary... just because we watched our wedding video this morning and there was a shot of you & Steve dancing, and I thought, "Little did they know that a year from then, they'd have a little son!"
We are thinking of and praying for you! Much love!
Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers, Emilie... SOOO nervous and excited for you!!!
Push, push, push him out!!! I hope you now have your little wee one in your arms. Can't wait to hear.
Yay, how wonderful! :) I'm so excited for you.
Missy
I'm sitting here on pins and needles!!!! Hello, little Lemmondrop, and welcome to the world! Hang in there, Emilie!!
Do I need to say that George and I--and my mom--are praying for you?!
PS Can I be an honorary auntie? I'm already an honorary Lemmons, after all (well, that was sort of a unilateral decision, but I DO possess the Jane Lemmons Special K Bar recipe)...
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