I hit a bit of an emotional wall this week, and had a much-needed breakdown and cry. For many reasons that I won’t even begin to go into, I’ve been feeling a lot of anxiety about this baby’s position, and the impact it would have on my birth. I had reached an obsessive-compulsive level of poking and prodding my belly trying to determine where baby was lying (he/she likes to spin in circles all day long) and my anxiety was sky-high. At several points along the way I’ve managed to get to a place of peace with this by repeating a mantra whenever I felt myself begin to stress; “I trust my baby to find the perfect position for a safe and easy birth”. But each time I thought I was finally getting past this issue I’d be knocked back into worry mode by one thing or another.

I’m just scratching the surface of this issue here, but I honestly don’t have the energy to go in depth. Suffice it to say it has been a lesson that has come up over and over and over again in many different forms, and it really has little to do with where this baby is lying, and a whole lot to do with trust and faith and letting go. [Can we say “control issues” everyone?]. It is apparent that I have not been all that successful at learning/integrating the lessons that have been sent my way thus far, and also quite apparent that this babe is determined to get through my thick skull/emotional blocks. Things just keep on surfacing and reminding me there is still work to do.

Anyway, to make a long and winding emotional journey fit into a reasonable length blog entry, I’ll just say that the cry was very good, very hard, and very necessary. My emotions had been lying just beneath the surface for so long and I needed a catalyst (which came in the form of an intense phone conversation with my midwife/the birth of my friend Marybeth’s daughter) to push me over the edge and into a place where I could finally release all my fears. I let go of a lot of feelings of guilt, and fear, and ambivalence – said all the things I had been keeping inside for so long and felt the freedom that comes with such release.

I had been feeling bottled up and totally blocked for such a long time– and finally broke down. My wonderful husband held me and comforted me and said all the right things, he provided me with exactly the love and support I needed to let go of all these powerful and confusing emotions. He listened with out judgement or even advice. He was just there, solid and strong and present to bear witness to my feelings. What on earth would I ever do without him? I was emotionally drained afterwards, but I didn’t really feel much better, at least immediately.

Luckily my friend Melinda was coming over for the day to dye prefold diapers into a rainbow of pretty colours – a project that took us ALL day long, and kept me and my overactive brain from dwelling on things. I think that if I had been able to sit alone with my thoughts I might have gotten myself into an even worse state. That night I crashed into bed right after Bella fell asleep, emotionally and physical spent, and blessedly woke up to another full day of activities and appointments. I knew that at this point I just needed to stay busy and occupied until it was time to sit down and get quiet with myself again – but I needed to create some mental space for that first.

After my weekly chiropractor appointment (where the receptionists threw up her hands in dismay that I was there – apparently they had been placing bets), Mani came over, and while our girls played, we had an opportunity for some wonderful conversation. As always – with her knack for asking the right questions and intuitive knowing what is going on in my head (how does she do that?)- she guided me towards some insight and peace. We also had a chance for Mani to do a Reiki session on me, which left me so relaxed that I was ready for a nap. This is only my second experience with Reiki, and just as with the first time, when Mani’s hands were over my belly, I thought she was touching me – although she later told me her hands never came in contact with my skin. This time, she had moved on to other parts of my body, but I still felt her hands on my belly. She said she experienced (is that the right word?) an aura of yellow and pink around the baby – which sounds lovely and peaceful, although I can’t say I know exactly what it means. Not surprisingly, she felt a lot of energy blockage and heat as she moved up my body toward my head – I’ve been dwelling far too much in my head lately, over thinking and analyzing things to death, instead of just being in my body and with my baby. I think (hope) that she managed to clear away some of that for me.

Shortly after that my midwife Marinah arrived for a prenatal visit, and to talk about birth options. The visit went really well, and we hammered out a plan for specific possibilities that gave both of us a sense of comfort and gave me the ability to let go of a few worries since I knew how we would handle them. She spent a long time feeling my belly – baby was ROT (Right Occiput Transverse) at the time - an improvement over the usual posterior - but his/her head was somewhat extended (rather than chin being tucked into the chest as is best for delivery). Since the head is not yet engaged, Marinah just said to spend some time in a knee chest position followed by some squatting to try and help the baby get itself tucked into my pelvis properly.

She asked how much Bella weighed at birth (8lbs, 8oz) and said that she thinks this baby could be a bit bigger – possibly 8.5-9lbs. I like the idea of a big baby; little babies seem so fragile to me. Thank heavens that fear of delivering a bigger baby is not among my many issues! Strangely enough, just hearing that weight estimate made me feel more connected to this baby, like I could better imagine seeing and holding this little mystery person inside of me. I know what a nine-pound baby feels like – although I know it was just a guess – it made it all feel much more immediate and tangible to me.

I mentioned how housebound I had been feeling, and how bad my cabin fever had become – and she suggested we head up to the mountains this weekend and get some time outdoors in the fresh air as a family. As much as I’ve been craving something exactly like that, I didn’t even consider it – since I figured that driving two hours out of town was a 40+ week no-no. Marinah said she thought it would be totally fine, and very good for us – and we agreed. We’re planning on leaving tomorrow, and heading up to Flagstaff. I’m really excited to get out of the city and breath some air that has not been cycled through an air conditioner or heated to an unlivable 117 degrees Fahrenheit. Marinah left with instructions that I was to become a ‘Goddess of Love’ for the weekend, focusing on loving myself and doing loving things for my husband – in order to make me more open and aware of my blessings. This, of course, gave Sam some ideas!!

After Mani and Marinah left I felt grounded, focused and at peace – a world away from how I had been feeling just two short days before.

We had a quiet night together. After Bella was asleep I went into her room to peek at her, and was struck by the beauty of this little creature I like to imagine belongs to me, but who has truthfully never belonged to anyone but herself. [The very same little girl who just interrupted my writing to come and show me how she had cut a big chunk out of the front of her hair…but that is another story for another day]. Earlier on that afternoon she told me, “I love you and Daddy and the baby. We will ALWAYS be together, forever, because we are a family. We are a team”. How can a mama’s heart not melt?

I knelt down by her bed, overcome with emotion and said a silent thank you to the universe for gifting me with almost four years to be the mama to only this marvelous little girl. Her thumb was almost out of her mouth, her breathing even, her skin warm. I climbed in next to her, held her soft hand against my face and curled myself around her slumbering little-big-girl body. I tried to stay as still as possible and let the beauty of the moment really sink in. I breathed in her scent and took in her features, wondering at the same time if I would soon see any of the same features in my new baby’s face. I was overwhelmed with the depth of the gratitude I felt for her presence in my life, and for the new life about to enter the world. I acknowledged the bittersweet feeling of knowing that this phase of my life, as only Bella’s mother, was nearing its end – that very soon there will be a new person in our lives, and the dynamic will change. I wonder every day if this will be the last day that Bella and I have alone together. As eager as I am to birth this child and hold it in my arms for the first time, I feel fiercely protective of the moments I have remaining with my girlie.

I finally tore myself away from her room and spent some time before bed in the prescribed knee chest position, swaying my hips and leaning over my bed and then squatting. As I do on most nights, I spent the time listening to a selection of songs I had put together for the birth, meaningful and relaxing music to carry me through my labour. Right before we turned in for the night I played the song I think of as this baby’s song [You take My Breath Away; by Eva Cassidy] with the headphones pressed against my lower abdomen. I held my husband’s hand and we both placed our hands on my belly – just spending some time hearing the soft strains of the music and connecting with our child.

We had one of those wonderful nights where we were both awake enough to lie in bed and talk – seems to happen infrequently these days as I’m usually ready to crash way before Sam. Our nighttime conversations are always one of my favorite parts of the day, the only time in the crazy rush-rush-rush of family life that we are able to just be still with one another. There was such a feeling of love and comfort in the air, and we once again managed to stay up far too late – but it was worth it.

Around 1am I began to notice that I was having what felt like my normal Braxton Hicks contractions. Although mild, they seemed to be coming with some regularity – and were not connected to my full bladder as they usually are. Sam had already fallen asleep, but I began to open my eyes with each one and peek at the clock – interested to notice that they were coming around every five minutes. They didn’t feel like much of anything though, not even uncomfortable and very short – so I tried to give them as little attention as possible. As with the last few nights, it felt important to lay semi-prone of my left side, with my right leg lifted onto my body pillow in front of me, as close as I could get to sleeping on my stomach. I was feeling a lot of movement from the baby in this position (this had been true on the preceding nights as well) and the cervical twinges I felt were painful enough to make me think that this baby had packed a pitchfork to torture me with.

After a while I rolled over, and the contractions didn’t seem to take as much of my attention this way, so I managed to float in some sort of quasi-dream like state for an hour or so. I was aware of the contractions, but also of the fact that I wasn’t truly awake. I was hopeful that this was going to go somewhere, but also very realistic about the possibility that this was not the real thing. I knew that given baby’s constant position changes, on and off prodromal labour was a real possibility. The contractions hadn’t changed much at this point, and were still so mild that had I been asleep when they began I don’t even think I would have woken up, but since I was awake they were enough of a distraction to keep me from getting to sleep.

At some point the contractions got further apart, possibly every 8-10 minutes, but slightly longer and definitely more uncomfortable. Not to the level that I would need to breath through them, but impossible to ignore. For a few minutes before one would begin, I could feel it dancing at the edges of my uterus before taking hold, little tingles and twitches of muscles tissue signaling the tightening that was to come.

It was interesting to lie in the dark, alone with my thoughts and remember this sensation. I remember, during my first pregnancy, asking every mother I met to describe what contractions felt like – and being confused that everyone had a different answer, or that many were unable to answer at all. Sometime over the past four years I came across a magazine article where several women described their labour experience, and one woman’s description immediately sounded right to me. She described her contractions as feeling as if her uterus was a large balloon filled with sand. With each contraction she felt as if someone was sucking the air out of the balloon, packing the sand tighter and tighter together with each second. This is exactly what contractions felt like with Bella, and exactly what they felt like again last night. Although they were hardly fun, and I knew that they would become much less so before all was said and done, there was actually a certain comfort in the muscle memory of the sensations and in knowing I had walked this path before and that it was a powerful and rewarding journey.

At around 430 I finally gave up on trying to get any sleep and headed downstairs. By the point I was pretty convinced that this was just a practice run, and I know that a good test of this is to change positions/activities and see if the contractions would continue. The questions filled my head, “Is this going anywhere?”, “Is this the beginning of the slow and gentle labour I had envisioned?”, “Will I actually be meeting my baby sooner than I thought?”. I tried to be realistic, but was understandably hopeful.

Unfortunately though, over the next hour, as I watched the sun rise though my family room window, I felt my contractions fade away. It seemed that as the light grew brighter, the contractions steadily dimmed – until the room was filled with the soft light of dawn, and I had to admit that it was time to go back upstairs and try to get some rest. I was disappointed and very tired of course, but felt quite pragmatic. My body was getting ready; the contractions had a purpose and were helping to move my baby into a good position (at some points I was able to tell that the baby was in a much more anterior position than I’d ever felt before).

More than anything else, the baby just felt somehow closer to me. Although I’d always known that I didn’t have much longer to wait, somehow spending a peaceful night alone in the dark feeling the contractions and focusing on the baby curled in my womb made it feel much more immediate. I knew on a different level that I did not have much time before I would once again ride the waves of labour and birth, and at the end, hold my child in my arms.

I’ve had contractions sporadically all day, but with no rhyme or reason – barely strong enough to warrant any attention at all. I’m hoping that if things start up again tonight it will be the real deal, and if not I’m going to pour a warm bath and drink the leftover wine cooler I found at the back of the fridge. [Before you gasp in dismay - midwives often recommend a small amount of alcohol in cases of prodromal labour in order to relax the uterus and give moms a chance to rest]. My only worry is that this will continue over the next several nights and I’ll get worn out before active labour starts – so if you read this tonight, send out vibes for active progressive contractions, or a good night sleep - at this point, I’ll take either!