Smith Family Weblog

We spent the weekend with our friend Tom and his girlfriend Katie, who were visiting from the east coast. I’m not 100 percent sure that Olivia knew exactly which “Tom and Katie” to expect, even though Ava kept reminding her it was the “Tom We’ve Known for a Hundred Years,” and not the “Tom Who Will be Our Uncle Soon.” (For the record, a visit from THAT Tom and Katie would be welcomed anytime, too!)

At Katie’s suggestion, we decided to head to the Flint Hills for a performance by the Kansas City Symphony. The outdoor concert was held in a pasture about halfway between Topeka and Wichita, and the setting could not have been more beautiful. We were expecting a “concert on the square” set-up, maybe with a few hundred people. Instead, we were astonished to learn more than 7,000 people were in attendance. Here’s what we saw as we made our way toward the venue:

We settled in on blankets at the parameter of the crowd, seemingly a half mile from the orchestra. Still, the sound quality was remarkable, and despite 90 degree temperatures, the wind kept us cool.

The sun set just as the symphony played the final notes of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

The entire evening was quite relaxing for me, but I think Bryan was a bit nervous being so far from home at this point in my pregnancy. The shuttle driver that took us from the gate to the venue commented on how brave we were, as he had just delivered a woman back to her car after her water broke. I’m not sure that bit of information helped much, but we made it back home with no trouble at all.

I have spent the last week in “pre labor,” also known by the slightly more irritating term “false labor.” Since last Monday, I have had almost constant contractions, coupled with other symptoms that are normally quite promising. However, a couple of checks with my doctor early last week showed the contractions weren’t resulting in any real progress.

I can imagine that pre labor is helpful the first time around—it probably conditions your body and prepares you mentally and physically for labor. As this is my third, I’m finding it just short of insulting.

Mind you, I’m fine waiting a few weeks—I’m just approaching the 37 week mark (which was when Olivia was born). However, I’d like to spend those few weeks productively, rather than constantly timing painful contractions only to learn that they are six, and then 12, and then four minutes apart—a sure sign that I am not, in fact, in actual labor. It’s more consuming than I’d like to admit, especially since I’m already at that unfortunate point in pregnancy where you become rather self-involved, forgetting that normal people don’t use words like “cervix” in everyday conversation.

When not at work, I spent a bulk of my time at home on the couch, eating sandwiches and complaining about my inability to contract at regular intervals. Meanwhile, it would appear I’ve outsourced nesting to Bryan, who is cleaning and organizing anything he can get his hands on.

Thanks to his efforts, I think we are indeed “ready”—at least as ready as you can be for a third baby. Part of me wonders if this pre labor business isn’t just an important reminder that while I think I know what to expect, there are never any guarantees. Perhaps going from two to three children (or from girls to a boy) won’t be as effortless as I’m anticipating.

In any event, we’re looking forward to welcoming this little one into our lives, and then welcoming what will hopefully be a steady stream of visitors in the coming weeks and months.