1:30, 4:45, 6:00, and some variation thereof was my schedule to roll out of bed, lift my heavy belly and waddle to the bathroom to relieve surely no more a few teaspoons from my bladder.
This nightly routine was my least favorite part of pregnancy, yet every day as he grew, my bladder conversely shrank, and so began the end of my first pregnancy.
It had been a good run, though not everything went as I expected. I had to stop running sooner than I anticipated. I just couldn’t lift the weight, which was more than I expected to gain. That’s pregnant though. Expectations are met, yet many are not.
Overall, everything was great: no blood pressure or sugar problems. I was still active, walking, doing challenging yoga, and living life as much as usual as possible.
As I was past 37 weeks and the baby could come any time, we were carbing up our diet on the suggestion of our midwife to get ready for a marathon labor.
I happily stuffed my face full of baked potatoes, sweet potato and oat waffles and smoked salmon spaghetti and kingcake, so much kingcake. I honestly believe it was this commitment to life, health, and good food that allowed me to have the home birth that I wanted. This story is a celebration of good choices that led to good outcomes.
This is the story of how Ennis arrived.