One Year Ago: Part I

One year and a day ago, on Monday, May 10, 2004, your father and I went to see Beth, our midwife, for our weekly prenatal appointment. You were already 6 days late, and I was starting to think that I would be pregnant for the rest of my life. Beth examined both of us. You were head-down and low, as you had been for weeks, but I wasn't dilating, and when Beth hooked me up to the fetal monitor for the routine stress test, there were no signs of any contractions, just the strong and steady rhythm of your galloping horse heartbeat.

We started to talk about a timetable for inducement, which I wasn't keen on, but more so than remaining pregnant past 42 weeks. Your father and I decided that we could wait another week, so we made preliminary plans to set up a room and induction. Beth was adopting a child from Haiti and was going there any day without notice to pick him up, so I was very worried that I was going to have to deliver you without her.

On Tuesday, May 11th nothing happened. Your father went to work and I was home in my third week of disability. It was hot—approaching 80 degrees—and I was huge and uncomfortable. That night your father and I tried the only two non-medical acts that are proven to help improve a woman's chances of going into a labor. We went for a little walk, as far as I could make it. And then. . .well, let's just say that in more than one respect, you came into this world with a bang.

I had been having some light Braxton-Hicks contractions off and on throughout the evening: just a light tightening in my stomach, but nothing paralyzing as I'd heard friends describe. Your father rubbed my back, neck, shoulders, and arms before we went to sleep. Our birthing class instructors had recommended practicing massage and relaxation techniques every day leading up to the birth, and who was I to argue?

Just as we had each night for five weeks, your father and I went to sleep saying, "This might be our last night alone for the rest of our lives!" And just like every night since he first felt you move in December, your father spooned up against me and we both drifted off with his hand on my belly, while you turned and shuddered just centimeters below, getting ready for your big day.