Well, we’re still here. Both baby and I. In what is quickly becoming a constant state of discomfort. In an effort to “keep my chin up” and “look at the brighter side of things” I can say that it’s a good thing for the baby that Brent didn’t get his wish of a July 4th baby. That would have meant that Jax was technically “pre-term” and although he probably wouldn’t have been at a great risk, it’s still not preferable.
So we’re still cookin’. At least for another few days.
But there were a few times this past weekend that I thought that we might be all done. Here’s what I can tell you – Friday and Saturday sucked as far as my state of miserableness (yes, that’s a word!). And since some people say that you reach a peak of miserableness right before going into labor, I was pretty certain that we were getting close. Then, when contractions started in earnest on Saturday night, Brent was certain enough about his July 4th theory that he wanted to take the bags downstairs. To say that I was a little cranky at this point (it was 1 am and I hadn’t gotten more than 2 hours of sleep for the previous TWO nights) is the understatement of the year, and I wouldn’t let him take my bag downstairs. He settled for getting HIS bag downstairs by the front door for our hasty getaway.
You know, to the hospital that’s less than 5 minutes from our house.
He’s just SO cute! Really, he is.
Although the pains kept me (or us) awake for the better part of the next two hours, they eventually subsided and I slept for a bit. You know, until I had to pee. And then I got another two hours of sleep until I had to pee again – when I had NOT consumed any beverages in between said bathroom trips. I just can’t figure this bladder thing out.
Anyway, Sunday was a slow day. I tried to take a nap – succeeded for an hour that felt like 3 hours when I woke up – but didn’t really feel good enough to go anywhere for July 4th festivities. Right about the time that I decided that I did feel something resembling human form, it was just starting to get dark and we were trying to decide where to go to watch some fireworks – the contractions started again. Except that these, like the ones the night before, were slightly more alarming. Or maybe intense is a better word. Yeah, that works. The pains that I’ve been having the past few weeks? They ain’t got nothin’ on true contractions! Yowzer!
So around 8pm that fun stated. And they lasted the longest stretch yet, about 3.5-4 hours. Long enough to get us all excited and think that we were making that long trek to the hospital 2 miles away – and then nothing. There were some good ones in there. Like reach out and touch someone good ones. And by touch I mean, grip with all the strength that you possess in your arm and hold that clench for the duration of the contraction while you’re breathing heavily and trying to remember to pant. I think that he understands that these are NOT comfortable for me. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that message is coming through loud and clear now!
And even worse than me reaching out and grabbing onto something is the actual contraction shooting down my abdominal area into my legs. That’s when you know it’s a REALLY good one! Fun times.
You want to know what’s even more fun? When they stop. And you did all that “work” for nothing. Because it’s apparently not time yet. Or when the next day, after such a productive night, you have contractions off and on all day long, but never more than two or three in a row. And not anything closer than 16 minutes apart. Or when you have one right as you’re falling asleep that has your husband worried about keeping the feeling in his right arm because you gripped it so hard during the minute and a half that the contraction lasted, just to have it not happen again. But by that point, the sleepiness that was so overwhelming 5 minutes earlier is LONG gone! Because you’re on edge wondering if another pain like that one is coming?!?!
All in all, it was a fun weekend. I just wish that something would progress or give me a break. Either come on in and make yourself at home, or go away and leave me alone. I’d like to get more than 3 hours of sleep at night in one stretch. I think that my mood and overall disposition would be greatly improved by more sleep, but that’s just my opinion. And what do I know? The 8th is looming ever closer, which is the date at which Mr. Jax will be considered full-term and not a preemie.
The 8th is looking like a good day. Even if my Dr would really prefer the 15th of July.