The Week in Review

Monday morning

3AM: I begin having contractions and these are a much stronger pressure than the previous few that I’d had. I stay awake to pay attention.

4:30AM: I wake Chris up and tell him that I’m having contractions and that they’re harder and around 20 minutes apart. We stay awake and talk. Contractions keep coming in 20 minute increments and aren’t easing.

5:30AM: Between contractions we start talking about how much fun it’s going to be to finally meet the Little One. Whether or not we’ll actually be the good parents we want to be. How fun it’s going to be showing the Niblet off to our parents. I wonder how long it’ll take.

6:30AM: I decided that I’ll go on to work. It will probably do me more good to be at work, moving around, than lying anxiously at the house. Call Momma to give her the alert so when the time comes she can get mothers back to pick up their children and she can hurry along to the hospital.

By this point, I’m having breakfast and holding my stomach and Chris is packing the ‘last minute’ bag. Things are flying all over the place. Well, not literally, but it is funny to see him run back and forth through the house dropping things on the table as he passes. Then he decides he’s going to start noting the contractions and he goes to get his notebook. Can’t find said notebook. It gets frantic.

It’s like the OD scene from Pulp Fiction. From various rooms I hear “Have you seen my little black book!?” I can’t help myself: “Your little black medical book?”

“Yes, my little…my little black book! Have you seen it!? It was right here!” (Insert random noises: crashes, books falling, papers being shuffled, footsteps going back and forth)

Sadly, the little black book hasn’t been located. Not a biggie. Around 9AM the contractions begin to slow. Not sure what to think of this. All day long they waxed and waned, getting us excited again and then left scratching our heads.

I call the doctor’s office to ask if the inconsistency is OK and not stressing Baby. The nurse gets all worked up and tells me that we need to come in and be checked. Huh? Why the excitement? It’s just contractions, right? “Well, I hate to not get you in and then something happen to you in the middle of the night.” Wait a minute! Something happen? To me? The baby? Fine, I’ll rush down there.

Doc’s office is closed. Read: two very pissed off parents-in-waiting. That’s a 40 minute ride! My regular doctor happens to be on-call at the hospital. Tells us not to come by there. She’s not sure why the nurse got her panties in a wad (I ad-libbed that); but that the inconsistency would definitely not hurt Baby and that my body is trying to figure out what to do. Hah. If my body doesn’t know what the heck it wants to do, no wonder I feel all out of sorts sometimes. We have dinner, head home and laugh it off.

Tuesday morning

Throughout the night the contractions come back at consistent intervals and get increasingly stronger. All right, maybe yesterday was the practice run, let’s get this party started.

Nope, still the irregularity and an ever-more sleepy Mommy and Daddy. Yesterday Baby seemed to be having the time of its little life in there, starting to slow down now though. I assume it’s getting tired like me.

Decide I’ll go on to work. I’m struggling with the grumpiness and the contractions that haven’t stopped but are getting harder. Surely, we have to be getting somewhere? Meet Chris for lunch.

Noon: The contractions have started coming regularly again. 15 minutes apart for an hour. We call the vet and make sure we’re still on for dropping the girls off. Yes, they hope they see us this evening!

1PM: 10 minutes apart and making me catch my breath with every one. Let Chris know.

3PM: What. The. Hell?! They’ve slowed back down to about 20-25 minutes apart. I think my body is rebelling. Wimp.

6PM: I finally get home from work and we decide to try Mexican food at K’s suggestion. Whatever at this point, we’re at a day and a half by now. We’re game. Holy cow! They’re getting closer again. Whoa! 8 minutes! All right. I address Baby as if it’s Doc Holliday, “Let’s do this, Lunger.”

9PM: They’ve picked back up again. I’m so tired. I ‘rest’ (meaning I keep my eyes closed to relax and think about what Baby is going to look like) between contractions. We’re still between 5 and 8 minutes apart.

10PM: Son of a building block! They’re slowing again. Screw it. This is just a big cosmic joke: Hey, let’s see how long it takes before she kills someone. Can you plead guilty to murder by reason of insanity if you’re insane because of fatigue?

All night long the contractions come and go. Some with incredible force and others with just extremely heavy pressure. I can’t sleep. Someone will pay for this. I’m in a ‘poop or get off the pot’ frame of mind now. Let’s either have this baby or let’s don’t. I’m good either way.

Wednesday morning

Get up to go work. Decide I’m going to try to get an appointment with the doctor. If I go to work I’m certain I’ll drive a stake through someone’s heart. There’s no way I can concentrate, let alone have the patience to deal with anyone. I can hardly stand myself at this point. I’m going on maybe 8 hours of broken sleep. No good. Plus, Baby’s movement has slowed and that’s getting me a little nervous.

Appointment at 10:30. Get checked out. Effaced only a bit more, around 80%. I had mentally prepared for no changes and wasn’t let down. No dilation still. Fine, whatever. Baby…what’s going on with Baby? Let’s do an NST. Yes, let’s.

NST showed a perfect little Sweet One. Moving and shaking and making Mommy look like a fool. I don’t even care. My Little Monster is A-OK and dancing again to Daddy’s voice. I’m a sleepy, but happy Mommy now. Think I’ll try to nap in this comfy recliner while the test finishes.

They tell me that I’m having more BH contractions than real ones. That I’m drinking gracious plenty water throughout the day, but the fatigue is likely keeping them coming. Go home, take Tylenol PM and get some rest. Rest will get those fake ones knocked out and probably get the real deal kick started. Whatever you say, doc.

Schedule next appointment for the following Wednesday, my due date. Have lunch, ice cream and head home. The hubby and I spend the rest of the day lounging. I take the meds around 7:30 and am down for the count by 8:30. Sleep through the night. Ahhh.

Thursday morning

I don’t feel like killing anyone. Great success!

Still having contractions off and on. Chris says at least we have a war story. He’s a sweetie; glad he’s my partner in this. Still not nervous about labor, believe it or not. I’m ready for it whenever Baby is.

Also, the office ‘When’s She Going to Drop It’ pool started yesterday. A few folks weren’t that excited to see me this morning, as Baby and I lost them some cash yesterday. From here on out, every day I am more likely to be a disappointment than a joy when I come into the office. It’s good for my ego. Here’s one conversation I had this morning:

Me: (preparing my oatmeal)
Co-worker: Mel! What are you doing here!? I was expecting to give you a high-five the next time I saw you.
Me: Yes, I live to let down.

In his defense, he’s a good guy and it was all in good fun. Lucky for him I feel better today so we laughed about the whole fiasco. Forget chicken soup for the soul. Rest is so good.

I should point out that my attitude hasn’t changed. I’m still in no rush to get Baby here. I’m taking things day by day and enjoying this last bit of my pregnancy.