Kieran, Part One

If this amazes me, it will surely amaze you: Kieran was born four weeks ago today. To mark this milestone, I'm forcing myself to get his birth story down on paper (or screen) before I forget the details. So here's Kieran, Part One. Part Two will follow on Monday. And look for a post later today with a current update on the newest reason I have to love well.

It was raining when I got out of bed that morning, a cool, steady rain that was equal parts spring shower and summer storm. I could hear it drumming a gentle beat on my window and cascading off my neighbor’s front porch.

I was happy to have the rain – happy for the farmers who needed the moisture for their crops, happy for the lilacs which were starting to bloom, happy for me because a gray, rainy day virtually guaranteed me an afternoon nap with Teyla.

I wasn’t so excited to backtrack to sweater weather after such a gorgeous April, but what can you do? If May 7 wants to be rainy, rainy it will be. I threw on a gray v-neck and a pair of jeans and decided the rain wouldn’t stop me from wearing flip-flops. I had already put away my winter shoes, and no amount of water was going to force me back into socks. (Besides, have you seen a 38-week pregnant woman attempt to shod her feet in non-slip-on shoes? It isn’t pretty. Sandals are practically required footwear after the 30-week mark.)

Teyla and I dropped the kids at school – her, running and skipping down the hallways, me, huffing and puffing my way from one end of the building to the other. We had just enough time to squeeze in a trip to Target before my OB appointment at 9:30. But as usual, Target sucked me in, and I ended up rushing through the check-out in order to be on time for the doctor.

That, of course, brought on a wicked round of contractions. If I had learned anything over the past few weeks, it was that hurrying and late-term pregnancy do not mix. It irked me to slow down, to meander through my day instead of speed walking from one task to the next. But I couldn’t fight biology.

By the time Teyla and I ran through the rain into my OB’s office, my abdomen was tight as a rubber ball. I was grateful for the chance to sit and let Teyla admire the “pish” in the waiting room. The break gave me some room to breath. But the contractions didn’t let up.

We were called back by our regular nurse, Alicia. She wrote down my weight (new all time record for me), blood pressure was good, baby’s heart rate was good (153), here’s a paper gown, the doctor will be in shortly.

Teyla and I amused ourselves during the wait by ripping holes in the paper gown, reading “Green Eggs and Ham,” and watching raindrops race each other down the window.

My OB joined us after 10 minutes to shake my hand, smile and tell me everything looked great. She checked my progress and confirmed what I suspected she would find: “You’re at four centimeters.”

I wasn't surprised. That followed the pattern set by my two previous pregnancies, when I was also dilated to four centimeters at 38 weeks. Because early dilation can sometimes lead to ultra-speedy labors, my OB had already scheduled in induction for me just five days hence. I figured her announcement would be followed by, “So everything is on track. We’ll see you bright and early next Wednesday.”

Instead, she rocked my world by glancing up and me and saying, “Do you want me to strip your membranes?”

(Part Two is here....)