November had arrived and that meant our baby was scheduled to as well. We had officially hit crunch time and needed to put our torn apart house back together. I mean, we weren’t oblivious at all in thinking we could complete an entire home renovation including photography studio, full basement apartment, and create an open concept main floor layout with brand new kitchen within six months. Oh, not to mention most of the work would be done by us (correction: Beau) who works full time! Nope, six months wasn’t crunch time at all (“insert eye roll here”); November was. Our home was in shambles and my pregnancy hormones were all over the place. I mean, I was trying to nest after all.
It was a mad dash. We aborted our basement renovation a month prior (as we were naturally behind schedule and it was no where close to completion) and tried to tackle the main floor convinced it all should and would be done for baby’s arrival. We walked on sub flooring, did our dishes in the bath tub or laundry room (horrible on a pregnant lady’s back) and ate a lot of takeout (using a tool covered stove in the middle of a construction zone with no counter tops and no water wasn’t manageable. Especially for a girl who doesn’t really know how to cook). What were we thinking!
Nine months pregnant and I was vigorously trying to clean this place back together while Beau frantically renovated away. Every week closer to my due date (Tuesday November 24th) we became more overwhelmed by the tasks at hand. Thank goodness for the most generous family members a couple could ask for. They were here as much as physically possible helping Beau build and helping me clean (I had taken on an obsession of washing all the walls top to bottom in every room of the house including baseboards and had to repeat as the dust kept settling). It felt like a rat race. Correction, it was one.
The couple days prior to our last weekend before our due date (weekends meant we had two FULL days to work on the house due to Beau and family being off) I was feeling light cramping but prayed baby would stay put. On the Friday I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with major cramping for a good four hour stretch. Most of that four hours consisted of being curled in a complete ball breathing through the pain but a hot bath helped and they actually went away for the afternoon (or at least lightened enough for me to not notice them while I busily cleaned away) only to return in the evening and become even worse on Saturday. Unknown to me, I was actually in early labour. I spent Saturday morning in the bath then in bed but felt better in the afternoon and got straight back to work. Tasks I thought were okay consisted of raking leaves in our backyard, shop vaccing and scrubbing the damn walls…again! Frankly, I am very surprised it didn’t happen much sooner considering what I was getting up to for weeks.
That evening Eric decided to go to bed earlier than usual as he was exhausted from the day in day out race to completion (and thinking we had two full days left to work). I on the other hand, was in my regular night routine of cozying in bed, interneting and filming my little babe go crazy in my belly. After about an hour of filming, the cramping came back in such full force that I had to stop what I was doing and lay on my side to work on breathing. All of a sudden my little baby kicked me so hard and my water broke. A trickle of water that I’ll never forget. There was no way around her new arrival date which meant there also were no more days left to try and put the house back together. We officially had zero days and had to leave it in its current condition; an absolute chaotic cluster f* (it really was that bad). I got out of bed and was reassured multiple times my water had broken.
It was now Sunday November 22 (12:30am) and we were about to have our little girl. Off I went to wake Beau up and tell him he was about to become a Daddy for the very first time…two days earlier than planned.
…to be continued.
(find part two here)