Amelia was due on the 4th October 2016, therefore I spent every moment in complete countdown to that day. I was fully aware that only about 4% of babies make their grand arrival on their due date, but I had a good feeling about the 4th, it would either be then, or the 6th. I had these dates stuck in my head for the whole pregnancy, and freely told people my due date in complete denial that she would be late.
So the Tuesday came, we had just moved house, Conor had the whole month off to spend with the baby, and I had ZERO signs of Labour… And I mean nothing, I’d been bouncing on my pregnancy ball to get her in the right position, eating curry for dinner, going for long walks with the dog, and nothing. I was gutted. Completely gutted. I spent Tuesday bouncing away on that bloody ball, in-between the odd tearful episode and taking those all important ‘last bump’ photos.
The next day I knew she wasn’t coming, so we met up with my Mum and went out for a bit of cake and a wonder around our local garden centres’ Christmas World.I have to say, for the most part, our family and friends were very chilled out with the ‘any signs of baby yet?!’ messages. That evening we took Bruno out for a walk and I started to feel twinges, and I was utterly convinced she would be arriving the next day (the 6th). Conor rang his Mum and she booked the boat for the next day, we were so excited and re-checked our hospital bag, put all the food and drinks in the car, we were so ready. However, in the evening the twinges had gone, and I went to bed feeling very disheartened.
We saw our midwife on Friday, who gave me a sweep, which absolutely killed! She told me it possibly wasn’t successful, and I bawled my eyes out the whole way home. I felt like my body was letting me down, how dare it, I had such a beautiful pregnancy and my body had handled it so well, yet here we were, overdue, with everyone waiting. The disappointment I felt was immense, people were telling me to rest and use our remaining time as just a couple to enjoy each other, but I just couldn’t. In my head it was all my fault and I was letting people down.
I have to add now that this, of course, was not the case. Babies don’t care when they are born, they really do come when they are ready. But you try telling an overdue pregnant woman that and you’re very likely to get your head snapped off by baby hormones. Our family were super understanding of that fact, but I wasn’t, I just couldn’t be at peace with all this waiting, I was too impatient to meet my daughter that I had been waiting my whole life to meet.
On the Monday, six days after my due date, I felt like a hippo, I was exhausted, and we went to see our midwife again, for another sweep. This one wasn’t so bad, and we saw the light at the end of the tunnel when she announced I was 1-2cm dilated. Well, I could’ve danced all the way home. But then she started talking about inductions. I’d read all about inductions in my hypnobirthing book, and the idea of it absolutely terrified me. Labour I had (as much as possible) prepared myself for, an induction, I had not. If she hadn’t arrived by Saturday I was to call the hospital and get booked in for the Sunday or Monday. However I left with a new optimism that we wouldn’t have to do that. Conor had convinced himself she would be coming that night.
For the rest of the day we saw family, bought a washing line for the eventual mountain of baby clothes, saw my Dad and ate Mexican food for dinner. Safe to say I put extra jalapenos on mine! We were in bed at 10, and little did we know we’d be up in three hours time..
but that story is for another post
With Love, Amelia & Me.