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Little Caliph - Part I
Friday, May 3, 2013 | 9:56 PM |And the going gets tough :)
The day I went into labour started out like any other day when you're in your last few weeks of pregnancy. I was tired, huge, peeing constantly & analysing every twinge my body made, wondering if this was a sign of labour impending over the next few weeks. It was the 23rd of April. I was 39 weeks plus.
In the morning, I started getting some cramping - nothing consistent, but what just felt like period aches - enough to make me clutch my stomach and complain for a bit, but then forget about them when they would subside. I stayed home in the morning in my pyjamas. Even then, the cramping was bothering me - it prompted my mama to make another comment about hoping to meet baby boy sooner rather than later. I remember chatting to her about how I was tired and ready for the baby in the next few days. She has three kids, so we talked about her birth stories for a while, before I went upstairs to lay down.
As the evening progressed, the cramps got worse. I was on my side, clutched around myself, feeling awful. I remember hubby checking in on me every now and again, and at some point I decided I would start timing them. Things started out fairly mild, but as time progressed, they began to form a pattern. I coped with the 'cramps' by feeling the beginning build-up, breathing through the tight, painful middle part, then relaxing as they subsided. After several episodes using that coping mechanism, I stopped calling them cramps & began calling them contractions. Actual contractions.
At around 11 pm, I went to the loo & continued cramping. I stood there, not quite sure whether I should tell someone. Since the contractions were continuing fairly regularly, I ask mama what we should do. Dad implied that it could well just be a false labour.
Sitting in the bath was lovely, but I continued timing the contractions and they didn't slow down - they ended up speeding up and being 5-6 minutes apart. After a while, I headed back to bed, and spent a few hours moaning through each contraction. It was around 6 am.
Luckily I'd had my hospital bags packed and ready to go for several weeks prior, so we threw them all into the car and got ourselves ready. I remember worrying constantly about heading to the hospital too early - I didn't want to be sent home if this was false labour, but I didn't want to stay home in case it was the real deal.
That 6 am drive to the hospital was done in 10 minutes. We arrived at the hospital, where I sealed the deal by having a contraction in the front car park. It was time to get checked out, and man, was I nervous.
To be continued.