Polina Jane Birth Story PART ONE

There are so many things that I don't want to forget about my sweet girl's birth story. So many details, dates, and significant events that led up to her birth. While all three of my births have been similar in many ways, they still have varying stories and each are beautiful in their own way.

When I was pregnant with Polina, and especially toward the end of my pregnancy, I remember specifically telling anyone that would ask...."I'm just not ready". That although I had always been antsy with the other two for them to arrive into this world, I had a completely different feeling this time around. Not because I didn't want to meet her, but because I just wanted to keep her in there and savor this time with her as long as possible. And also because I didn't want a false alarm. I wanted that story where you say you woke up in the middle of the night, gush of water, and things went crazy from there. I wanted pain. I wanted to yell at my husband. I wanted to drive fast and I wanted to barely make it to the hospital.

In other words, I had lost my mind.

But. Let's get to her birth story. Let's actually start a week and a half before her birth, and mention a couple dates. A couple of events. Perhaps these were significant to her arriving in this world earlier than expected, and perhaps not. Regardless, they are important. 

September 5th, 36 weeks pregnant. Attend a beautiful wedding of a good friend, have a date night with the hubby, and dance the night away in tall heels.

September 7th, 36 weeks 2 days. Labor day. Go canoeing and "hiking" lots of stairs with the family. Do a lot of walking, a lot of eating, and enjoying one of our last family trips as a family of four.

September 11th, 36 weeks 6 days. I went in to my scheduled OB appointment.

Everything went well, numbers looked great, and baby's heart beat was absolutely perfect. Toward the end of the visit, my doctor asked if I wanted to go ahead and get checked, and he knew immediately by the smile on my face that the answer would be yes, of course, why even ask! Although, I quickly exclaimed that I know it doesn't mean anything. But this girl? This girl likes to know what's going on.

I was actually surprised when he said I was 3cm and 50% effaced because I honestly had not felt a single contraction this entire pregnancy. No braxton hicks, but definitely tightness down there. Because I was used to the typical abdominal contractions that I had with the other two, I just wasn't sure what to call these and what exactly was going on. Whatever it was, something was working and getting me ready for labor.


Regardless, I remembered being 4cm for a week when I was pregnant with Graham and 3cm for 2 weeks with Elliana, so to me the number didn't mean anything. However, my doctor followed up my measurement with these words....

"I may just not see you next week. Any day now!"

Look, as excited as I was to meet sweet P, and as uncomfortable as I was having to work nights and still take care of two little ones at home, for some reason {for the first time ever in my pregnancies}, I was in no hurry for this one to come out. I still had lots to do on my list prior to her arrival, and I just had not let it mentally sink in just yet. I don't think I realized how real it was. And not only was it real.... but it would be here quite sooner than I expected.

So I worked that night the 11th, and the 12th, and had great nights at work. No contractions, no indication of labor coming soon. All the girls kept saying they wouldn't see me soon, but I brushed it off and felt like I knew my body wasn't ready yet.

September 13th, a Sunday, we spent our day relaxing and doing family things and welcome in the Football season with lots of food and our family over. Nothing significant or exciting about this day. 

September 14th, Monday came. I got up early with the kids and we went on our long route for a walk around the neighborhood— one that we had not taken since my second trimester. I spent the rest of the day cleaning our car out, getting lots of laundry done, and just having fun with the kids outside. Now that I am trying to think about the actual day, I cannot remember details. But then came night, and that's when things begin to really get interesting.

Andrew came home from work and we were outside with our friends playing. I remember how beautiful it was out, and I honestly had no desire to go inside. Not even to make dinner. So we didn't. We stayed outside for hours, and for a good 45 minutes we threw frisbees around with the kids. We rolled down the driveway in a rolling chair with the kids taking turns sitting with us {we are so safe over here}, and I even snapped a picture from that night. I was in one of those moments where you just cannot get over how blessed and grateful you are to be alive.

As the sky began to darken, we realized that we should better get inside and start getting dinner ready. Since I hadn't really prepped anything prior to, the easiest thing to make {and a house favorite of ours} was our homemade pizza. I whipped through the ingredients, we turned on our bluetooth player and played our favorite music, and then in no time two yummy pizzas were in the oven and making our house smell absolutely delicious.

I can remember every detail after that. Andrew and the kids were on the floor playing, and I hear the timer go off. I walk into the kitchen, turn the oven off, put on my oven mitt, and reach for the first of the two pans. As soon as I grasped it, burn. I dropped the pan that flipped the pizza completely over with ingredients smeared all across the oven, and squealed in pain. Andrew ran quickly to find out what happened, and I couldn't explain what it was but said something around the lines of "something didn't work in that process because I just burned my finger."

His response? And something I will never let him live down.....

"Oh yes, there is a hole in the finger of this mitt! I saw that the other day."

Now. Imagine the biggest look of disgust. Picture it in your head. Yes, that. That's exactly what I gave him, with a quick response of "And then you thought it was a good idea to put it back in the drawer?!" 

Initially, I wasn't even as mad about the burn as I was about only having one pizza to eat. Look, I was hungry and 9 months pregnant. But that was because the burn hadn't kicked in yet... and once it did.... oh did it ever.

I started whimpering like a big fat baby, whipped out the ice pack from the fridge [because it's the only thing that would help], and ended up plopping myself in bed early for the night feeling sorry for myself and upset with Andrew. Andrew came up to be with me after putting the kids to bed, and felt so sorry for me that he ran to the store to find something better than an "ice pack." He ended up coming home with some cream, that I wasn't sure if it was safe to use while pregnant so I refused it, and some burn cold wipes. I taped the cold pack to my finger, added a band-aid on top, and then placed the ice pack on that.

Andrew was laying next to me watching Monday night football when he said to me, "what if we had a baby tonight?!" I'm not even sure why he said it, and I had not heard him say those words yet once this pregnancy, but regardless, they were said. I laughed it off, and assured him... no, no baby, and slowly started drifting off to sleep at around 10:30.

That didn't last long, because a little after 11, I woke up to a little "gush" down there. Eyes opened. Andrew watching TV. It's wet down there. I don't say anything right away, and take a moment to rise, just staring at the ceiling wondering what could have possibly come out. Finally, I spoke.

"Andrew... something just came out."  

And then I got out of bed....

{to be continued. because it is already TOO long!}