Very soon, the Pillow family will welcome our second child into the world: a boy, Henry. My wife is 80% effaced (whatever that means) and 2 cm dilated; or, as I keep incorrectly stating in conversation to co-workers: 2 inches dilated.
Truth is, a week ago we were under the impression Henry was well on his way — a few weeks ahead of his expected due date: April 15, much like his big sister who came into the world a few weeks early.
Rewind to last Monday. My wife began having contractions. She had an appointment scheduled already for the day; so, thinking they might send us on over to the hospital, she asks if I accompany her. I do. Jefferson OB does their routine examination and then hook Allison up to a fetal monitor. The contractions are irregular but average about 5-8 minutes apart. The doc looks at us — Dr. Owens, the same doctor who delivered our first child, Annabelle — and says, “You guys are free to go home, but most likely we’ll see you in the middle of the night, so have your bags ready. Let us know when they’re about 4-5 minutes apart and last for 45-60 seconds each. We’ll schedule another appointment for next Monday just in case.”
And here it is “next Monday.”
By Thursday, the contractions had faded away: this entire series of events — contractions, back pain, etc. — totally the opposite as was the case with Annabelle. With our daughter, my wife had a few contractions, her water broke, and a few hours later — after my wife lets me sleep an additional two hours (I kid you not) and one trip through the McDonald’s drive through for a Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Bagel Combo (or was it the Southern Style Chicken Sandwich?) with extra hash browns (I also kid you not: my wife’s exact words: “Go ahead and get a breakfast combo. This [labor] might take a while and you get a little grumpy when you’re hungry.”) — our daughter is born.
Textbook pregnancy. Textbook labor and delivery.
Henry. Well, he’s already a different story; or, as my sister likes to say: “He’s already like you, taking his sweet time. Just hanging out. Nothing to rush around about.”
Or, as my wife likes to say: “Henry. God’s way of teaching me patience, which is also why I married you.”
Patience is not one of my wife’s strong suits as she’ll be the first to admit. I’ll be the second. We balance out each other nicely.
I’m looking forward to seeing Henry — whenever it is he decides to come. No hurry after all. He’s cozy, warm, and gets to eat around the clock.
On a totally unrelated note: The Flaming Lips – The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song