I have decided to start this blog as a means of documenting this next year of life with my little bundle of joy. I am used to working and socializing often and have always been someone who likes to keep busy. Whether I am picking up extra shifts in the evenings or finding projects to do around the house or cleaning and reorganizing, I am hardly ever truly idle. I am aware that my life has drastically changed and that this next year I am home with my little peanut will look very different for me. I am already quickly learning that the majority of the days will be spent doing new jobs such as feeding, changing diapers and doing many, many loads of laundry. Although I am quite happy to adapt to this new role, I worry that without an outlet and a means to converse with others, especially moms, I will feel cooped up and disconnected. So I begin today with writing about the day our little pumpkin was brought into this world. This is not just for me but also for her to read one day, as I never want to forget the day we first met. It seems as though people tend to focus on the negative, or at least remember the negative more easily than the positive but this birth story is nothing but positive. It was easy, complication free and resulted in the most incredible miracle. I am incredibly blessed and grateful to call it my own.

July 28/2015:  The day started off normal, I strolled into work around 9:30 a.m. and was eating breakfast as I reviewed my work for the day. I started to feel some contractions around 10:00 a.m. and had texted my hubby to let him know what was going on. He cheekily commented back to me that “Ya never know” in reference as to what could happen, but I could read between the lines that he didn’t think much would. I had experienced Braxton Hicks a few times throughout the pregnancy and figured that was what was happening. I continued to work the rest of the day feeling what I wrote off as on and off Braxton Hicks. That is, until 3:30 p.m. when I noticed them become increasingly more painful but still very irregular. At 4:30 p.m. I timed them with a co-worker; some were 7 minutes apart and others were only 4 minutes apart. I figured that if this were the real deal then the contractions would be more consistent in their timing. I made the decision then that I would continue to go to my scheduled pedicure at 5:30 p.m. at Tiber River. After all, I needed pretty toes before my baby arrived. My co-workers seemed surer than I was that I was having a baby and offered to stay with me. I politely declined, reiterating the fact that I would be attending my pedicure and therefore wouldn’t be at work to stay with. Hugs were given and well wishes were said as they felt they wouldn’t be seeing me for a while but I was adamant that I was getting my toes done and would be back the next morning to show them off. I phoned my hubby who was at home playing drums to let him know what I was experiencing but that I would be going to go to my pedicure and would keep him posted. As I was gathering my belongings and about to leave, I reconsidered my options as I felt the contractions begin to occur more regularly. I started to time them and noted them to be consistently 4 minutes apart. This alerted me and I wondered if I should at least check in with the hospital to ensure everything was okay as other “things” were also happening down there which caused me to become more alarmed. By 5:00 p.m. my pain had increased and I decided that either way, whether I went to the hospital or not, I wasn’t going to drive myself home as it could be dangerous.

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