Logan’s Birth Story (The Prequel)

I’ve heard third babies can be wild cards. Some people said their third kid came ridiculously fast, while others said their labors lasted forever. I had no idea what to expect, except for expecting the unexpected. Which, is basically how every birth starts out—nobody can predict anything about when their new little one will arrive.

Spoiler alert: I think it’s funny that I actually wrote and published my last bumpdate on his birth day, actually. It’s crazy how it can just happen in almost an instant!

Photo courtesy of Crystella Photography

My due date was April 9, but since I had both of my girls a week late, I was anticipating a late baby again.  I was induced with Julia at 41 weeks with zero signs of any progress before, and then I went into labor naturally with Madilyn at 40+1. Because of that, we decided—early on—for my mom to come out on April 7, to help out that last week before he arrived.

When I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, my anxiety kicked into high gear, since I read that many doctors like to induce around 39 weeks, because that’s when the placenta apparently likes to start failing. This was not in my birth plan. I’ve been induced once, and I really didn’t want to be induced again, especially since my babies like to “cook” a little longer than most. And, after having a natural labor last time, I really, truly, desperately didn’t want to have another induction.

Thankfully, my doctors were happy with how I was handling my gestational diabetes blood sugar numbers, and since my NSTs all came back with flying colors, she said as long as things all looked fine, she was totally on board with waiting things out and seeing where mother nature took me. In other words: no induction was needed in her eyes. Phew.

I started getting checked down there at 36 weeks, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. With my second baby, I progressed a fair amount in the weeks before having her; it was awesome having my body primed and ready to go. That was not the case this time. I wasn’t dilating, and that frustrated me, so I kicked all the labor-inducing tricks into high gear. I ate more pineapple core, I bounced on the yoga ball every chance I got, my husband came home from work early several days so we could have the sex during nap time (how you roll with other kids in the house), I was walking around a mile a day; you name it, I/we were doing it (literally).

My OB was actually out of town for my 39-week appointment, so I saw someone new. Thankfully, she said I had progressed to 3cm, which made my day. I knew that if my body was already doing at least some of the work, I was better than being totally closed up. She swept my membranes at that appointment, and we talked about an induction…only I was the one who brought it up.

I was done. I was tired of being pregnant, and I wanted to see that light at the end of the tunnel. Plus, my doctor would actually be on call in the hospital the day I picked (40 +1), so I went ahead and set the day to evict him, all while praying I’d go into labor on my own before then.

During that last week I was so conflicted. Conflicted because I didn’t want to be induced, but I also really wanted him out. I was also getting nervous about gestational diabetes, and how big he could be. At my last appointment it was noted that I was measuring 48 (not a typo) weeks, and it was mostly due to having a ton (double) of amniotic fluid. The doctors weren’t concerned, but still…if my water broke it’d be like the flood gates opened up. Plus, I also really wanted to wait until my mom arrived (39+5) since she could watch the girls. I didn’t want to impose on my friends (all who had their own kids) to watch them. So much confliction, and there was nothing I could do about it except over think everything.

That’s when I heard something clear as day in my head that made me immediately relax. It was one word: “Trust.” I took a deep sigh of relief and trusted in everything. I trusted that the timing would work out. I trusted that my labor would happen just as it should. I trusted my body. I trusted that my mom would be there.

Trust became my word for the last two weeks, and every time I felt that anxiety start building up, I just took a deep breath, and trusted that everything would work out as it should.

And it did…a heck of a lot sooner than I thought it would. Read the rest of Logan’s birth story here!

 

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