Our due date had come and gone. When I began my pregnancy journey I had a feeling that I would go over the traditional 40 week mark, but I had no idea that I would make it all the way to 42 weeks with no sign of baby. Especially when I went into the hospital the week before Christmas and my doctor promised me that I would not make it through the weekend without having my baby. But alas I did. I made it through the weekend, then Christmas, then New Years, and alllll the way to the end of January. And that, my friends, is not a good feeling at all.
Neither is the excruciating sensation of your legs seemingly disconnecting from your body which is caused by the SPD I mentioned in Lily’s Birth Story pt. 1. But again, that is where I found myself at the end of my pregnancy: 2 weeks overdue sitting in a lazy-boy with an ice pack between my legs. Not fun. Not fun at all. Not at all what I had planned either. I was unable to get in and out of my car, the shower, or my bed without crying from the pain. I had stopped doing laundry weeks earlier since I was unable to walk up and down the stairs. My poor poor husband had to deal with my endless tears all the while picking up the slack of all the housework I was unable to do. It was terrible.
So terrible that at my 40 week appointment I made up my mind that I despite all my hopes and dreams of a completely natural labor I would let my doctor induce me at 41 weeks. I left my doctor’s office feeling sad that I would have to be induced, but cheered by the fact that my pain would be over in a week. HA!
Monday came and along with it my much anticipated 41 week appointment. My husband had even taken off work in anticipation of a trip to the hospital we were sure would happen as soon as I left the office. Even the ultrasound tech was convinced that we would be induced that day and have our bouncing baby girl by Wednesday at the latest. Apparently the only person who didn’t get the memo was my doctor. Because she was still adamantly against inducing me, even with knowing how much pain I was in, very little movement from our baby during our latest biophysical, and amniotic fluid levels that were getting lower and lower. She set my induction for the following Tuesday, 2 days after the 42 week mark, wrote me a prescription for Tylenol 3 for the pain I was in, and sent me home.
I am not ashamed to admit that I cried. No, I bawled, like a 2 year old whose just smooshed his fingers in a car door. Like I said, my poor poor husband. Because as hard as this was for me to go through, I know it was just as hard on him to watch me and know he could do nothing to make me feel better. So he drove me home, tucked me into bed, and went off to fill the prescription. And together we waited for Tuesday to come.