Hi. I haven’t put up christmas decorations. Nope, they are sitting in a nice box right next to me on the couch. I’m such an over-achiever.
This weekend was nuts. I thought I was going into labor, you guys. I’m totally serious. I started having contractions Sunday morning and figured they were just Braxton-Hicks, but as the morning stretched on they started getting closer together and becoming more painful. I reassured Gavin that I was fine, sent him off to church, and started timing the contractions. After only a few hours they were only 10 minutes apart and pretty uncomfortable. I sent him a text that got him home pretty fast (using the words “labor”, “contractions”, and “hospital” in a sentence will cause a fuss, apparently) and we scooted off to labor & delivery….again. Groan.
When I got there, a nice but unconvinced nurse strapped me to a monitor and left me for almost an hour. She seemed put off by the fact that I was calm and not ripping anyone’s hair out. I’m a silent sufferer. What can I say? When she finally came in to check on me, I was dismayed by the lack of activity showing up on the monitor…I swear I felt contractions! Just as she was about to leave the room, I had a pretty strong one. She came over and palpated my stomach…yep, it was a contraction. Apparently the machines they use to monitor contractions aren’t very sophisticated, but after she moved the contraptions around to different spots on my belly, they started to show up on the screen, in regular 8-10 minute intervals.
She called the doctor. Some sweet bro in a white suit came in. Ugh. He looked like the kind of person who has blue flames and an iron cross painted on his surfboard. I guarantee you he has something like “the chicks dig it” airbrushed on his 1997 Mustang. He examined me (and said some things that totally skeeved me out) and concluded that there was “nothing to be done” and that I would have to just endure constant contractions for the next 6 weeks. Uh, right. He also mentioned that the discomfort “couldn’t really be that bad”. I wanted to rip his perfectly sculpted chin beard OFF OF HIS FACE. Has he ever had a contraction? Don’t get me started on this skeezeball. What a freaking loon. I was diagnosed with “preterm contractions” and sent home with a pat on the back and some tylenol. The weak kind, too. Not even extra strength.
I got in to see my real doctor today. She took me seriously, which was a nice change. She told me that the contractions aren’t harmful to the baby, just annoying and uncomfortable for me, so they should be fine…except I would have no idea when I was really in labor. Since the contractions are so regular and constant, I basically feel like I’m in the early stages of labor everyday. No big…just like a trip to Disneyland. I’m having the time of my life over here. Anyway, she prescribed some medication that will stop the preterm contractions happening. The nice thing is that when I really go into labor, the medication won’t be able to stop real contractions and I’ll know that it’s go-time.
In other news, my big pimpin husband got a new calling, I need an external hard drive for my laptop, and today I made the ugliest (but still super delicious) toffee ever. That’s all she wrote.