It’s hard to imagine that things could have gone better with my pregnancy. I took vitamins and ate right and drank milk like there was no tomorrow, but I don’t enjoy pregnancy. I just wanted the final product, and fortunately, my pregnancy moved along beautifully from the start with no bleeding or cramping. I was tired a bit during the first trimester, and only had about six weeks of nausea. Sometimes I even forgot I was pregnant.
The second trimester was wonderful too, and I didn’t even mind my burgeoning belly. At 23 weeks we had the typical diagnostic ultrasound telling us it was a healthy baby. My husband and I both agreed without hesitation that we wanted to know the gender, but Mitchell didn’t cooperate and hid all the good parts! At my next OB appointment, the ultrasound technician was nice enough to sneak me in and check things out again. Success, to our relief–Mitchell!
By the time I hit eight months, I was huge. I never expected my body could get that big since I’m normally a size 10 and five-feet, nine inches tall. There was a lot of room to fill and Mitchell was doing it! At this point, my OB told me my blood pressure was high and since my ankles were so swollen, she sent me home from my office job on disability five weeks prior to my due date. I was upset since I’m not a homebody and I couldn’t even get out into the garden to work in it. I was forced to kick back, and now realize it was wonderful pre-baby rest-time.
Two weeks into bed rest, my husband and I were out on our pontoon boat one Friday afternoon and I suddenly felt wet. I told my husband we might be in luck and sure enough, the more I moved, the more the water flowed. My water had broken! I knew there was no turning back now and was so relieved that I wouldn’t have to guess if I were really in labor and get sent home from the hospital.
We rushed to the dock and then home so I could pack (not quite prepared, obviously), and my husband called the doctor. While I packed a few things, I was gushing but feeling no pain. About an hour later, as we were headed to the hospital, the contractions kicked in. Thus far, I hadn’t had any at all, even the false kind. WOW! They started up at two minutes apart and never stopped. When we got to the hospital, my husband said, “Honey, get the epidural.” He was right because I couldn’t have made it through 14 hours of two-minute contractions without any help. As my OB said, “It’s like going to the dentist for a root canal and saying no thanks to the Novocain.” I likely would not have had the strength to push out my eight pound, one-ounce baby boy (who required forceps because he wouldn’t quite turn all the way) after 14 hours of contractions. The epidural allowed me to sleep from 10 PM until 6 AM when they woke me to tell me I was eight centimeters and it would soon be time to push!
It was wonderful! Sure, it was difficult to push and somewhat uncomfortable, but not really painful (not serious pain, anyway). The epidural didn’t affect Mitchell at all; he was perfect, happy, calm, and beautiful, and his father was ecstatic! It was like actually having a coach in the room (more like the John-Madden type though) because he gave me a play-by-play the entire time I pushed!
If I could stand to be pregnant for nine months, I’d have four kids like I had Mitchell. Labor was a fitting end to an easy pregnancy. I trusted my doctors and everything worked out beautifully. They say you block out the bad parts, but it really was that good. And thanks to Mitchell (now 18 months, and one of the most loving and social creatures I know), little boy number two will be here in about three months when we’ll head back to the hospital to start over again. And even though this pregnancy has been just as easy as the first, I think this is it for me. I just want my old body back for good!
Good luck to all you moms-to-be out there. Relax, and everything will work out for the best!