The week that all of my great intentions of being greatful for this pregnancy fly out the window as I wake up each morning bummed to realize I didn’t go into active labor through the night.
— that my red raspberry leaf tea drinking begins and I kick myself for not remembering to start weeks before.
— that the positive guesstimation from my midwife of when we’ll meet this little girl turns from amazingly exciting to the biggest bummer.
— that I feel the most distant from this little child as I’ve ever felt.
— that more prayers are said than I have the rest of the year combined.
–that I begin googling everything, from birth statistics about going into labor at night to full moon statistics. Fun fact, I had a 1% higher chance of going into labor over the full moon weekend. Dang moon let me down.
Friday night/Saturday early morning contractions began around 3am that were entirely too exciting to fall back asleep through. I gently woke Landon up to let him know that I was going to take a shower but to not get his hopes up yet. I mostly needed something to do instead of letting my thoughts race, and it was just what I needed. By 5am, back in bed and fresh faced, all labor progress had fizzled and I fell back asleep.
Sunday morning I woke with a dull ache in my back and the bottom of my womb for a few hours. Not wanting to driving up to Avery and Trevers to watch conference with potentially worsening back labor we asked if they could meet us at our house instead. Together we watched conference, ate cinnamon rolls, I took a nap between sessions feeling exhausted, and we went to the park in the evening. All day I had though for sure we’d meet this little girl; Easter Sunday. By that evening however, it was clear things weren’t going to pick up.
But then early early morning Monday morning I tossed and turned through contractions that were so powerful they made me nervous for the big ones. I found myself being grateful for Gloria the doula I’ve chosen to work with already, knowing that I’ll be needing her to make it through labor. But once again they didn’t become regular and were over by morning.
The emotional exhaustion of the start and stop nature of labor was really starting to get to me. I posted a pic on Instagram and had a sweet mom chime in that prodromal labor was the worst! I quickly googled the phrase and found an article that soothed my tired heart:
“Welcome to prodromal labor. Though not often talked about and poorly understood, prodromal labor is an important subject. Likely the cause of many early trips to the hospital, emotional and physical exhaustion on the part of the mother, and dashed hopes of natural birth, prodromal labor is something that needs to be talked about more and understood better.
Prodromal labor is usually defined as a labor that starts and stops, sometimes for days on end. Prodromal labor feels like real labor, it acts like real labor and in many ways it is real labor. Sadly, it eventually stops and doesn’t result in a baby like active labor does.”
Last weekend as I said a prayer with Landon before falling asleep I found myself being led to ask for patience rather than asking for labor to progress. So I’ve tried to keep that focus on my mind as this new week as begun. As contractions begin again yesterday evening I set an intention to trust the Father’s timing and not overthink the light surges I was feeling. That when they become closer together, and seem to be leading to active labor, that I’ll know. So in the meantime I’m being grateful. I’m listening to birth meditations, soaking in epson salts, and tearing up to birth stories and youtube videos. I’m focusing on my relationship with Landon and trying to make sure that we’re as in sync and that our relationship is as strengthened as possible. We’ve got some long nights ahead! But I’m so ready.