It all started strikingly similar to Edith's birth—I woke up after midnight to go to the bathroom, kept an eye on the clock when I had more contractions than usual, and downloaded a contraction timer app when I realized the contractions weren't going away. I figured either things would stop within an hour or two, or else we'd have a baby by morning.

Well. Wrong.

Edith's Birth Story

We begin this story on Saturday morning, November 26. I had been pregnant for approximately a million years and was 4 days past my due date. Now, this wouldn't seem so bad considering the latest I'd ever gone before was 5 days late. 

BUT.

When we found out about Edith's lung issues, the MFM specialist said we'd probably induce around 39 weeks. So I was planning on no longer being pregnant by mid-November. Which makes that extra almost-two-weeks unbearably long.

Anyway. Saturday. I started losing my mucus plug and was convinced labor was imminent, despite not being entirely sure how that all had played out with previous children... I WAS SO PREGNANT. CLEARLY I MUST BE DONE!

So I told Andrew that we'd probably be having the baby that day, holed up in the dark bedroom with the labor ball and my kindle, and waited for things to start. Andrew even sent the kids to my mom's house (in our back yard, so not exactly a huge hardship) for a while so that he could be there helping but...

Nothing.

However, Andrew *did* head to 7-11 to procure a giant bag of ice and the biggest cup ever (seriously, it held maybe a gallon of liquid?), which was an immense help when labor actually did begin.

So pizza was ordered for dinner, much grumbling was done by me (it hurt so badly to walk! The baby was looooow and I was soooo uncomfortable!), and we went to bed hoping that things would start up overnight.

Nope.