Still Pregnant

I don’t know why, but part of me was convinced I would go into labor this weekend.  Convinced, I tell you.  Walking home from work on Friday there was a steady stream of Braxton Hicks contractions, none of which hurt or seemed very organized, but if it’s possible to be consistently erratic then that’s the best way to describe them. 

So I told the husband and we decided to hunker down.  We both walked the dog (hoping the exercise would hurry things along), he made dinner with extra cayenne, we camped out on the couch, I drank as much water as I could possibly consume and every time I moved or touched my bulging belly he looked at me with this “is it time?” plead in his eyes and I just had to shrug unknowingly and awkwardly smile to imply, “I still feel good, which probably means this isn’t a go, but who knows?” 

And as you can tell by this post’s heading, nothing materialized.  Sunday night was a mild repeat of Friday night, but this time I wasn’t so vocal about to belly acrobatics as not to make for Belly Watch 2.0.  And it took me forever to fall asleep… I tried to blame it on our having turned on the heater, but really I was just laying there waiting for something, anything that might mean the small one was on his way.  But nothing came and I finally fell asleep around 3 AM.  Defeated. 

I still don’t feel like I’ve hit the “oh my god, get this kid out of me” wall, in terms of physical discomfort or basic insanity, but damn do I just want to do this thing already.

Now, if today’s doctor’s appointment doesn’t result in the phrase “labor is eminent” I may be singing a different tune.  And while I don’t believe it’s physically possible, I have this nagging feeling he’s going to say “wow – you’ve reverse-effaced and now it looks like you’ll be two weeks late” at which point I may burst into tears.


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