29: The Birthday that Included Nurses, Firemen, and a Newborn

Rylee was born about a month before my 29th birthday, so I really wasn't planning on doing anything spectacular. I would have been happy with just a slice of chocolate mousse cake and Netflix. I decided though that it would probably be in my best interest to get out of the house and you know, not wear yoga pants for once. Just a small dinner. It would still be relaxing.

OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.

The day started out as normal. I fed Rylee throughout the night and slept in a little (with a newborn, more than 2 hours of sleep means sleeping in). I woke up, marathon-ed Bones on Netflix (Netflix, I can't quit you!), and snuggled with my sweet baby.

Sometime in the afternoon, I had the best idea. I was going to wear my wedding ring for my birthday. The last time I wore it was my second trimester, and I felt like my fingers were looking less like hot dogs these days. I took a quick shower, changed, and put the ring on my finger. And can you believe it, that sucker fit! That's when the trouble began.

I tried to take my ring off, but it wouldn't budge. The ring was stuck on there like a crayon in a kid's nose. I tried to remain calm and quickly Youtube-d some videos on how to remove it. I tried Windex, butter, floss, EVERYTHING you can think of, and my ring wouldn't move. That's when I really started to freak out. That's also when my finger began to swell.

Rylee Paige: A Birth Story

After a week and a half of a lot of nothing, no contractions or signs of labor, I decided to have a "me" day. I had the whole afternoon planned out. I would go get a foot massage, grab a quick milk tea, stop by the store, and then pick up Emily on the way home. And I'll be honest. I'll admit it. I had ulterior motives. I had heard a rumor that foot massages could induce labor so I figured, why not? If anything, I'd at least get a nice relaxing massage out of it. So I headed to my appointment, hope in my heart and tension in my feet.

Once I got there, I was greeted by the sweetest little lady. She was like an Asian version of Betty White and seriously, as nice as could be. Anyway, she greeted me and led me to what I'd like to call, "the 'please Lord, let this baby come' room." So she gave me the best damn foot massage of my life, and I walked out feeling super refreshed. As I got in my car and drove to Target, magic happened. I started having my very first contractions, at least the first ones I could feel. I pulled into the Target parking lot and walked around the store to see if they would go away. The pain was so good y'all. My excitement was really building up at this point and after an hour of consistent contractions, I decided to go pick up Emily and head home before they got worse. But then the pain was not so good. The pain was PAINFUL, and I had to park in a random neighborhood so I could kneel over and cry. I called Kyle, tears streaming down my face.

The Waiting Game

I realize I shouldn't be complaining. I'm only 38 weeks and have 2 to go, but when the doctor said it'd be any day now over a week ago, I sure did get excited. Days have been dragging and my patience (what little I had before) is practically gone. I spend my afternoons eating Cap'n Crunch and watching April the Giraffe, my hero, hoping for the birth of her baby and mine. I mean, come on! This warrior-champion for pregnant women everywhere-has been overdue for almost 3 weeks now. If April can do it, surely I can. But little baby, I'd sure like to meet you. It's nice and cozy in your mama and dada's arms, I promise.