The Buzz on Bumblebee, Pt. 3

The next few hours were a blur.  I remember chatting with the nurses and the doctor as they cleaned Silas up and the doctor stitched me up ( I had a 4th degree tear).  I remember them giving Silas to me to nurse for the first time.  I remember being taken to our room and eating while Andrew went with Silas and the nurse to go to the nursery and finish getting Silas cleaned up and ready for the night.  But by the time they returned, my pain meds and the antibiotic they'd put me on had kicked in.  I don't remember much of that first night at all.  Andrew was a trooper, stepping in and making sure Silas was taken care of while I recovered.

The next couple days in the hospital were interesting.  I felt pretty useless.  I was on pain medication for the tear I got during labor and because the pain meds made me super nauseous, I was also on nausea meds.  The nausea medicine made me incredibly drowsy.  I was also still very dehydrated.  I felt like I was barely functioning most of the time. 

When I was awake I would hold my baby while he slept.  When he was hungry I tried to nurse.  Oh how we tried. 

My son definitely got a good dose of stubbornness in the genetic mix.  I wish I could say it was all Bancroft...but there's definitely some Layton/Pruitt in there too.  Every time we nursed he would just give up and get MAD.  I mean, Hulk mad.  He'd latch on just fine and start to nurse but before any progress could happen he would let go and begin to cry.  He was inconsolable. 

Each attempt at nursing ended the same.  We'd spend an hour trying to latch on, trying to get some colostrum in his little mouth, Silas wailing.  And Mommy giving up and crying herself or becoming so exhausted that she just couldn't do it any more.  Then Andrew would take him and walk him or rock him until he cried himself out and went to sleep.  I don't know how I would ever have managed without Andrew.

Andrew became the primary care giver while we were there.  I spent most of the time sleeping or in pain.  There were a few moments of alertness.  Usually when we had visitors I was able to perk up a bit and at least say hi and chat for a few minutes.  But most of the time I slept.

I was concerned about my lack of success at nursing but the nurses all encouraged me.  They gave me tips.  They told me it was normal.  No one made me feel like I was doing a bad job. 

Eventually the lactation consultant came by to see me.  We got off on the wrong foot and I chose to ignore any advice she gave me.  In hindsight, I wish I'd gotten over myself and just listened and tried the things she was suggesting.  We might have avoided some of what was to come.

Finally, the day to bring our Bumblebee home had arrived.  It was New Year's Day.  As I waited for Andrew to bring the car around it struck me that we had come full circle. 

On New Year's Day eight years ago Andrew and I began dating.   This day we were bringing home our son.  Eight years ago we hadn't even begun to dream about him.  But God had.  His story began that day as much as it had nine months ago.  It was a cool moment to reflect on.

The next week would be one of the toughest weeks of my life.  I need to pause here and just say again:  I married an AMAZING man.  I am so thankful to be his wife and I am so very blessed by his love, friendship, and support. 

When we were discharged at the hospital, we were told to call the pediatrician and set up an appointment for Silas in two days.  I thought this was odd because I knew his first well baby check up should be at two weeks.  But I chalked it up to the pediatrician just wanting to be thorough and since we hadn't seen him before Silas was born, maybe he wanted to have the "getting to know you" appointment as soon as possible before doing the first well baby appointment.

Oh how I wish I'd paid more attention to the what was going on when the nurses would take Silas to the nursery for weigh ins and such.  I would have been more prepared for why Dr. Ellis wanted to see us so soon.  I would have been more prepared for the battle I was about to fight.

Tuesday night through Friday morning of week 1 were tough.  Silas and I were still having trouble getting into the nursing groove.  This was made doubly hard by the fact that my milk didn't come in until early Friday morning.  Everyone kept telling me this was normal though so I tried not to worry over it too much.

Friday we loaded up and drove up to see Dr. Ellis.  Once we got checked in for our appointment the nurse took Silas' measurements and weighed him. Then Dr. Ellis came in.

I knew something was up from the moment he sat down with us.  His first question was: Are you still having trouble nursing?  I told him yes.  He nodded and took a deep breath. 

Dr. Ellis then explained that the reason he'd had us come in was because Silas' last weigh in before discharge had concerned him.   He thought Silas was losing too much weight and wanted to see him after a couple days at home to see if nursing would go any better. 

I told him that my milk hadn't come in until very early that morning and that I had hoped nursing would start going better now that it had.  I remember feeling apprehensive and anxious as I explained this.  The look on the doctor's face told me there was something else happening that I had missed.

Dr. Ellis told us that it's totally normal for newborns to lose a little weight in their first few days.  This usually amounts to a few ounces or so.  Silas had lost two pounds.  To be exact, he had lost 25% of his body weight.  This was not OK.

My heart sank.  I began to get emotional.  Dr. Ellis tried to comfort me, but what he said next only sent me further into the emotional abyss.  We had to supplement.  We had to get some high calorie formula into Silas over the weekend.  My mind raced ahead...I didn't want to do formula.  I hated that we would have to.  But I knew that supplementing wasn't the end of the world if I could still nurse him.

Then Dr. Ellis said he wanted us to try the bottle.  My first response was, "Absolutely not.  Do I have any other options?  I don't want to use a bottle.  We are breastfeeding."

To his credit, Dr. Ellis did try to work with me on this.  He asked me if I had any ideas and I asked about the tube feeding system.  You put breast milk or formula supplement in a syringe or bag that is attached to a tube which you then tape to your nipple and as baby nurses, you slowly release the supplement.  Dr. Ellis said that he had heard of this but that he didn't have access to this.  He agreed to have his lactation nurse call the lactation consultant at the hospital and ask if they had one and also to consult with them about what they felt would be best for Silas at this point.

Unfortunately the hospital didn't have a tube system either.  The lactation consultant was also concerned with the amount of energy it was taking Silas to nurse.  She suggested that we do whatever was necessary to get some food in him over the weekend and worry about nursing after that.

This would mean a bottle.  I was devastated.  I knew how hard nursing was going to be to get started.  I also knew how much harder it would be once a bottle was prematurely introduced.  I had a big ugly cry right there.

Andrew immediately began to console me.  Dr. Ellis reached out and rubbed my shoulder, apologizing.  He told us he wouldn't force the bottle on us.  It would be my decision.  He understood how hard this was.  His wife had gone through the same thing.  Only her pediatrician didn't give her a choice.  She had come in with a bottle and given it to their son without even so much as warning them.  He would never, ever, do that to a breastfeeding mom.

I was a mess.  I hated that we would have to do a bottle.  Hated it!  Dr. Ellis then asked me if I would feel better talking to the lactation nurse for a little bit.  He wanted me to hear from her why they thought the bottle would be best for now and have her give me some pointers on getting started nursing.  He assured me, we weren't giving up on that.  We just needed to do something else in addition for a little bit.

The lactation nurse was really nice.  She explained to us about Silas using so much energy to nurse that he was burning more calories than he was getting.  We needed to get the weight loss stopped as soon as possible.  She spent time helping try to get him latched on and watched me try to nurse.  She gave me advice on positioning, and encouragement.  Then she asked me what I wanted to do.  She asked me if I wanted her to get a bottle.

The tears started all over again.  I looked at Andrew.  He hugged me.  He told me he wouldn't let me give up on nursing, but maybe we needed to trust that this was what was best for now.  I cried harder.  The lactation nurse patted me on the back and squeezed my hand.  I slowly nodded.  We would do the bottle.

She left and came back with a formula bottle ready to go.  She asked me if I wanted her to get him started.  She knew that it would be hard for me.  She wanted to make it easier.  I told her no, I could do it.  So I did.  For about a minute.  Then the tears came again.

She took Silas and held him.  Then she began to feed him the bottle.  She looked me straight in the eyes the whole time and said, "You are a good mom.  This will all be over soon enough.  You're doing the right thing, here, OK?"  I wish I believed her.  In that moment no one could convince me that this was best.

Eventually Dr. Ellis came back and gave us instructions for supplementing.  He also ordered a jaundice test. He tried one more time to comfort me.  He encouraged Andrew and told him he knew how he as the husband/dad felt.  He'd been there.  He told us to hang in there.  He gave me a half hug on the way out. 

On the way out of the doctor's office every lie the enemy had been whispering all week washed over me.  I wallowed in them.  I let them take root.

You see, I had been feeling inadequate and useless from day one.  I didn't feel like I had gotten much bonding time with Silas and what time I did get was full of sobbing, frustration, and feelings of failure.  I felt like all of those insecurities had just been confirmed.  I wasn't enough.  I couldn't take care of him.  I couldn't even provide for him.  He was only four days old and I'd already failed him completely.  Like I said, I'd been listening to lies.

That first weekend with Silas was probably the toughest weekend I have ever had.  That whole first week was a battle.  Mama and baby continued to end nursing sessions completely distraught.  There were many times when I let negative self talk get in my way. 

I was angry with God.  I cried out to him,"WHY?"  I didn't understand how a God who designed my body to feed my child could let this happen.  Why would he take this away?

There were just as many times when my wonderful husband stepped in and did what he could to comfort me and our son.  There were even a few times when he did what had to be done for both of us and ordered me to bed while he took care of Silas.

At first I resented these efforts on Andrew's part.  Soon enough though I regained perspective and was so grateful to him.  Eventually I realized that my sinking into an emotional black hole wasn't helping anyone...especially not Silas.  I took action.  I reached out to several friends who I knew would provide a backbone of support and prayer.  I also called my counselor and asked for an appointment ASAP.

On Monday Silas had another doctor appointment to do a weight check.  We had heard back from the lab over the weekend that his jaundice levels were normal, so his weight was now our only concern.

Doctor Ellis had the nurse do Silas' measurements and weigh him.  When he came in to the room to talk to us I was praying it was better.  Doctor Ellis started off by asking me how I was.  I told him fine.  He asked me pointedly about my depression.  I assured him it was under control.  He apologized again for the pain this was obviously bringing me and then told us that he had some good news.

Silas had gained weight.  He was now only 17% down from his birth weight.  This was good news!  Dr. Ellis wanted us to continue to supplement but gave me the go ahead to start trying to get Silas back to breastfeeding.  Answered prayer.

That night and the next were still very hard.  When I sat down to nurse Silas refused.  More tears.  More frustration.  More lies.

When I saw Silas take the bottle eagerly, my heart broke all over again.  I was angry.  I was devastated.  I knew nursing would be hard.  His eagerness for the bottle over the breast would make it even harder.  I wasn't sure how to get started again.  I needed help.

So once again I reached out to the circle of women I had surrounded myself with.  They prayed.  They encouraged.  They offered help.  One of them was April Clay. 

Tuesday, January 8th, I got up with a goal: nursing.  I realized that the doctor had just told us the day before that we could start transitioning off of the formula, but I was determined.   The sooner we could get off the formula and stop depending on the bottle so much, the better off both Silas and I would be.  By that afternoon though I was exhausted and no closer to figuring out how to get Silas to latch on, stay latched on, and eat.  I needed help.  I texted April.

That evening April  made arrangements with the Lokey's to watch her kiddos while she came to my rescue.  Once she arrived we headed to the nursery to get down to business.  Andrew joined us.  Something I was so glad for.  He wanted to support me.  He wanted to know how this was supposed to work so that he could understand how to help me. 

Let me just say this:  If you ever need a coach in your corner, April Freakin' Clay is your gal.  We've taken to calling her the lactation guru/coach/genius at our house.  And Mister Silas owes a lot to his sweet Aunt April.  She spent about an hour helping me figure out what positions worked best for us, how to get Silas to latch on and stay on, giving me advice and encouragement for how to make this whole nursing thing work. 

When April left, Andrew just looked at me and said,"We should have called her last week.  It took her an hour to give you back your confidence.  You can totally do this now!"  Folks, that just about says it all.  He was right.  I felt confident.  I felt supported.  I COULD do this.

Within a couple of days we stopped giving Silas the formula.  I was still pumping and letting Andrew give him a bottle when a nursing session wasn't going well, but no more formula.  By the end of that week, we were nursing like pros.  It was amazing the transformation that happened in our boy.  He was content.  He was relaxed.  And mama was pretty changed too.  Those lies that had been gripping me were exposed.  I let them go.  I stepped into the light of Truth.  And Father lovingly reminded me that He'd been there all along.  He just needed me to see that I needed Him.  

We had another weight check that next week.  Silas still wasn't gaining the way that he should, but Dr. Ellis was willing to let me keep breastfeeding exclusively for a week and see what happened.  Silas took the opportunity to have a growth spurt and now that Auntie April had taught him to eat,  he did.  Oh how he ate.  And ate.  And ate.  To the point that mama was having to remind herself that this was good and that we fought so hard for it and it was worth it.  I was exhausted but also thankful.  Being kept up all night by a ravenous newborn was a good thing at this point.  It beat being kept up all night by a frustrated and upset newborn.

We went back for another weight check yesterday.  Dr.  Ellis was so pleased and excited to tell me the results that he could barely contain himself.  Six pounds, nine ounces! He was officially gaining at a 30grams a day rate, which was our original goal.  We had done it!

The last 3 weeks with my son has been one of the hardest experiences of my life.  I have never been more worn emotionally, spiritually, and physically all at once.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I have learned so much about myself and the Lord the last couple of weeks.  I have finally recognized the lengths a parent will go to for their child...it makes the fact that God calls himself our Father so much sweeter...deeper...meaningful.  When I look at the last three weeks in comparison to what our Father in heaven has done for us: forget about it.  I can never again doubt these things about my God and King:  He loves me.  He will fight for me.  He will not give up on me.  He is on my side.

The Buzz on Bumblebee Pt. 2

As we drove to Norman to possibly have a baby we were both fairly calm...in that freaking out on the inside, being brave on the outside kind of way.  We talked some about what we expected to happen, fears about delivery, thoughts on our son, hopes, dreams, etc.  We were quiet a lot too.  I think we both were anxious to see if we would deliver a baby that night and sort of hoping we'd have more time to prepare for the reality of caring for him on the outside of the womb.

We arrived at the hospital around 4pm on Sunday, December 30th and signed in for an OB Check.  The RN came in and checked me and set me up on the monitors.  I was still dilated at a 3 ("almost 4") and my contractions were anywhere from 3-5 minutes apart to 6-7 minutes apart at times.  She decided to keep me for observation and see. 

An hour and a half later the RN checked me again.  I was dilated to a 4.  My contractions were more consistently still in the 5 minute range.  She decided she would call the doctor and see what she thought. 

Around 6pm the RN returned checked my monitors one more time and then excused herself saying,"I'll be right back".  She told us later that she had called the doctor again to tell her that she felt strongly that I be admitted.  The doctor trusted her RN and took her advice.  The RN was convinced that we'd be back later in the evening if she sent us home and knowing that we were from Ardmore didn't want us having to make a fast trip back.  Considering how quick my labor progressed after that, I am so thankful she did.

By 6:30 pm we were all checked into the delivery room and beginning to grasp the reality of the situation.  The nurses all kept commenting on how calm I was.  They couldn't believe that I was so calm and it was my first child.  I'm not sure how calm I actually was but I was at peace with the situation.  And relieved.   I don't think I realized how anxious I actually was until they told me I was staying and there would be a baby in my arms soon. 

The evening really kind of flew by.  Before I knew it, my contractions were getting closer together and my back labor was really kicking in.  Soon enough I was getting the epidural.  At this point, Andrew and I both really began to recognize that this was really, really happening.  Andrew started calling the essential people...family, close friends.  We knew that it would be late when Bumblebee arrived, so we told everyone to just stay put and be praying.  They could all come say hi in the morning. 

Around 11pm, the delivery nurse announced that we'd be preparing to push soon.  I can't really explain how I felt at this moment.  It was a mix of "Oh Jesus!" , relief, and "NOW?!".  Oy. 


By 11:30pm we were pushing.  Originally I think we both envisioned that Andrew would just kind of be there to hold my hand and mutter encouraging words occasionally from a safe perch near my head.  But the delivery nurse had a different vision.  For which we are both so thankful.  One of the things that I loved the most was that Andrew got to be so hands on involved in the process. 

The doctor who would be delivering Bumblebee was wrapping up a surgery when the pushing started.  So the RN put Andrew to work.  She had him turn on the baby warmer and tell her when it was ready.  Then she had him help me get into position for pushing.  Next she had him help me support my left leg (the epidural was really kicked in on that side) and when we started pushing, Andrew was right there in the middle of it.  I will never forget the complete awe in his voice when he announced," I see his head!"

The room was completely calm.  Andrew and the nurse both encouraged and cheered me on.  The entire process flew by so quickly.  The doctor arrived and by 12:06am on December 31st Silas Allen was here.  Our Bumblebee was born.  (The nurses told me that I shouldn't tell anyone that I only pushed for about 30 minutes as it could cause some resentment.)

I told Andrew afterwards that I feel pretty silly saying this considering how much I complained about pregnancy: Labor and Delivery was AMAZING.  I absolutely loved every single minute of it.  Even the icky parts.  Even the painful parts.  I truly enjoyed the birth process.  I know, I must be a crazy person.   We had a wonderful experience bringing our boy into the world.

The most amazing moment of my life was when I heard that baby boy scream and the doctor lifted him up for us to see.  It was gloriously beautiful. And in an instant every wall I've ever built up around my heart came crashing down, irrevocably broken. It was devastatingly wonderful.  And when they placed that little boy in my arms...oh my goodness, there were not enough words to adequately thank the Lord for what He'd blessed me with.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude and humility. 

**Part 3 covering the hospital stay, coming home, and week one to come soon.  Stay tuned!

The Buzz on Bumblebee Pt. 1

A LOT has happened in my life over the last few months.  I haven't blogged as much about it as I had hoped I would.  And there is no way to play catch up.  So I'm just gonna do a quick review and then dive into where we are today.

About 8 1/2ish months ago I discovered that Andrew and I were parents...I was pregnant!  Andrew was thrilled, I was scared to death. Ha ha.

Life has been crazy ever since.  I quickly discovered that pregnancy is not my cup of tea.  I kind of hated it to be blunt.  And I had a relatively easy pregnancy so I really had no right to complain.  But I just hated not feeling like I had control of my own body.  I hated being sick all the time.  I hated not being able to work out or run.

Don't get me wrong.  There were some really cool parts.  The first time I felt him move.  The day we found out he was indeed a he.  Feeling him kick and squirm.  Yeah,  I did kinda love that part of it.  To be honest, I kind of regret spending so much time hating being pregnant.   I wish I had chosen to enjoy it more.

When Andrew and I found out we were pregnant we knew it was going to be a big deal for our families.  This was a first grand baby.  (Although my sister beat me by 2 1/2 months, my parents still feel like they got a 2-for-1 bargain...they got TWO first grand-babies at the same time.)  He was also a first great-grand baby for Andrew's grandparents (a first great-grandson for Charlie's mom).  That being said...everyone wants to know everything about him.

So we decided that we wanted to keep something about him just for us.  His name.  We knew we had to call him something so we chose a nickname: Bumblebee.  We had chosen his real name right before we found out he was a boy.  But to the world he would be Bumblebee until birth.

Bumblebee was actually Andrew's idea, but I had kind of thought about it too, so when he brought it up I knew it was meant to be.  We started out calling him "Baby Bancroft".  That got shortened to "Baby B".  And every time I heard someone say "Baby B", I would think "Baby Bee", then that Baby Bumblebee song would pop into my head.  ( You know the one: "I"m bringing home a baby bumblebee...")  Andrew had a similar line of thought, so the nickname stuck.

As the awe of discovering parenthood began to settle in we realized we needed to make a permanent commitment to buying a home.  We had been renting since we got married and had talked about buying a house "someday" off and on for the last year.  But we never really got serious about it.  Then we realized our apartment wasn't big enough for a 3rd Bancroft.  And the more we looked at bigger apartments and houses to rent, the more we realized the rent was pretty comparable to a mortgage.  It was time to bite the bullet and commit to finding our first home.

As we looked at houses and compared wants versus needs we just couldn't seem to find what we were looking for.  And we had a deadline.  Bumblebee was due in early January and we wanted to be moved before I was too far into pregnancy so that it didn't wear me out.  Eventually we talked to friends who had built in a new housing addition.  Andrew decided we should talk to the contractor and see if this could be a good fit for us.  In June, we signed a contract to start building our home.  By September we were ready to move in.

We actually moved in later in September because the mortgage company had the wrong closing date listed and didn't finish their part on time.  So that put us moving in right as I was getting very busy with "work".  I volunteer my time to a girls' ministry called Individually Designed Ministries (aka I.D. Ministries) and we were busy getting ready for a huge conference in November.  I was in charge of registration.

We got moved in around mid-September, Converge Conference happened in early November, and then the holidays came.  And so did Bumblebee.

From the very beginning I was convinced that my little boy would be a Christmas baby.  I just had this gut feeling that he would arrive just after Christmas.  Turns out I was right (sort of).  So while the doctor estimated a due date of January 14th, 2013, I kept thinking he would come late December 2012.  Silas Allen Bancroft was born at 12:06am on December 31, 2012.

Let me back up and tell you how we got there.

On December 11th I woke up not feeling quite right.  I'd been having some cramping and what I assumed were Braxton Hicks all weekend.  When I went to the restroom that morning I noticed some spotting, enough that I worried.

After much debating, I texted Nikki Lokey and asked her advice.  This is usually what happens when I know what I should do but want someone to tell me anyway.  She's pretty great at that. A phone call to my doctor was in order.

I hesitated calling my doctor because I knew that the nurse would probably tell me to go ahead and drive up to the hospital to get checked.  This would mean telling Andrew.  It would also mean a long drive to Norman with a nervous Daddy/Hubby worrying himself over his little family for what was probably nothing.  I really didn't want to be the cause of that.

After a short conversation with the nurse, it was settled.  I would need to go get checked out just to make sure everything was normal.  It most likely was, but erring on the side of caution is never frowned upon in pregnancy.

I told Andrew what was going on and of course he went into worry mode.  My hubby loves me and this baby.  A LOT.

At the hospital, the RN decided to check me and see if I should  stay for observation.  I had begun to dilate ( I was at a 1) and I was having some back labor along with the Braxton Hicks.  I was also dehydrated.  So the RN decided she would have me stay for a couple hours and just monitor me.  After a couple hours (and a GIANT jug of water) my contractions had subsided and I was less dehydrated.  She checked me again and I had dilated slightly more but not enough to classify more than still at a 1.  So home we went.

Over the next week I started paying closer attention to my contractions.  I noticed they had picked up slightly but were still totally normal for the stage of pregnancy I was in.  On December 18th I had another doctor appointment.  This appointment would confirm what we were beginning to expect.

As Dr. Anderson checked me she very quickly discovered that Bumblebee was already quite low and getting ready for his arrival.  She also discovered that I was already dilated to a 3.  I will never forget the look of surprise on her face as she checked me or the sheer panic on my husbands when she gasped.  I couldn't help but laugh right there.

After both doctor and husband regained their composure, Dr. Anderson announced that she was fairly confident in predicting that Bumblebee would be arriving well before our scheduled induction date of January 9th.  In fact, she predicted a New Year's baby.  I'd say she was pretty accurate.

Over the next week, I just continued to feel more "blah" for lack of a better term.  My contractions were still pretty steady.  Some days I hurt and some days I didn't.  We had another appointment the Friday after Christmas.  This time we sat down with our RN, Penny, and just went through questions we had, listened to baby's heartbeat, etc.  Dr. Anderson had left strict instructions that I was not to be checked...she was concerned that it would send me into labor.

As we talked with Penny she could tell that I was very uncomfortable that day.  She asked me about my contractions and how I was feeling.  She even gave me a pep talk and shared some of her pregnancy experiences.  Penny also advised us that if my contractions began to become more steady at 3-5 minutes apart then she wanted us to go ahead and go to the hospital.  She suspected with the way things were already progressing that labor wouldn't be a long ordeal for me.  And since we were driving from Ardmore to Norman to deliver, why take chances?

Saturday, January 29th my contractions began to be a bit more intense.  They had hurt this bad before but never for as long.  So I started timing contractions again.  8-10 minutes.  6-7 minutes.  5-6 minutes...steadily 5-6 minutes.  It wasn't 3-5 minutes...but it was 5...should I go?  Should I wait?  I didn't feel like I was about to go into labor...I just felt incredibly uncomfortable...and now I was anxious.

I  decided to tell my husband that I thought we might need to go to Norman soon.  We spent the rest of the day debating back and forth about what we should do.  Andrew got so anxious that he started creating charts and data flow sheets in Excel based on my contractions.  You read that right.  He spent hours "collecting data" and analyzing it.  It kept him calm.  I love that we have the charts to show his son some day.  I can't wait for him to see the tangible evidence of how badly his Daddy wanted him to be here.

We ended up deciding to wait out the night and see if the contractions continued to stay 5 minutes apart.  I didn't sleep well.  I was in some pain, uncomfortable, and anxious.  I prayed a lot that night.

The next morning was Sunday.  We got up, got dressed, and went to church.  By the time we arrived at church I was feeling even more "blah".  I sought Nikki Lokey out and asked her what she thought.  My contractions hadn't sped up but they were definitely still 5 minutes apart consistently.  I was also feeling worse and worse.  We both agreed that the worst that could happen was I go to the hospital, get checked, and they send me home.  But what if it was time to have a baby?  Did I really want to take a chance on waiting too long?  That settled it.  I pulled Andrew aside and we made a plan to go to Norman after church and just get me checked out.

Our plans got a little derailed after church.  Andrew's grandparents wanted to take us to lunch.  We weren't sure how to decline without letting slip that we thought I might be heading into labor...and what if I wasn't??  We didn't want them worrying or trying to drive up to the hospital for a false alarm, so we accepted their invitation and prayed that I could make it through lunch.  It was the longest meal I have ever sat through.

When we were leaving and had gotten into our car I looked at Andrew and said..."Yeah...let's go to Norman.  Now."  I wasn't feeling good at all.  I still wasn't sure that they wouldn't send us back home, but I also knew that if I had dilated more, then this could be a worthwhile trip.

So we went home, packed the car up as if we planned to stay at the hospital that night and headed up to Norman.  Neither of us knew what to expect.  We were both plenty nervous.  And we both had one thought trumpeting through our minds:  Will we have a baby tonight??

*Story will be continued in next blog post.  Stay tuned!