~ Are We There Yet?
I really wasn't sure if I'd be writing a journal or a birth story this week. Since Sunday I've been getting really serious cramps (if I wasn't pregnant I'd think my period was about to come on - and be really nasty). They come and go and vary from being just uncomfortable to actually painful (I was having trouble walking around the grocery store last night when they hit). From what I've been able to find out online and from my pregnancy books these are "pre-labour" pains and nothing to worry about, but mean that my body is getting ready for the big day. Aaron asked me how I knew they weren't real contractions, and I said that I don't, but I don't think they're sharp enough or regular enough to be considered real contractions - but if they start coming every five minutes we could go to the hospital.
So, between these pre-labour pains, finding out that the baby's dropped another 2 cm as of Monday, and having random bouts of nesting, I've been getting pretty impatient for labour to start already. I jump at any possible sign of labour and wonder "is it time?". It certainly doesn't help that pretty much everyone I talk to wonders the same thing. If I mention that I'm cleaning the house (not an irregular thing for me to do) or that I feel good and full of energy, or anything along those lines someone will say to me, "oh, you know what that means . . ." or "better have your hospital bag ready." Trust me, it's ready, I'm ready, I'm just waiting for baby to be ready. I just wish that the signs of labour were a little more concrete. I'm sick of wondering if every cramp or energy spurt means it's time. I swear I have labour hypochondria.
But last night I really thought I might be going into labour. Or, well, I thought it was possible, at least. I woke up at 2:30 am with pain searing across my abdomen. It lasted about 30 seconds or so and then subsided. At 2:45 it came again. And again at 3:00. While some pregnant ladies would automatically assume this was labour, I actually didn't. You see, despite taking Metamucil religiously (as per doctor's orders), I am anything but regular, and I really wasn't sure if these were gas pains or contractions (if you've never had really bad gas pains, I can't explain how these might be confusing, but trust me, they're sharp, come regularly, last about 30 seconds and travel across your abdomen). The pains continued to come at 15 minute intervals until 5:30, when they mysteriously stopped. But in those three hours I wondered a hundred times, "is this really gas or is it labour?". They certainly hurt enough to be labour (it gave me a chance to practice my labour-coping techniques), and if they'd started coming closer together I probably would have woken up Aaron and gone to the hospital, but as it was, they stopped. I managed to get some sleep, and around 9am I had a nasty bout of diarrhea that confirmed that they were indeed gas pains. ("But wait," a little voice inside me says, "diarrhea can be a sign of impending labour too . . ."). So now I sit here, typing my journal and wondering if today really will be the day. Or maybe tomorrow. Or maybe a week from Tuesday . . . who knows? Sigh.
And that, pretty much, has been my week. I gained half a pound at Monday's weigh-in (not bad considering I didn't get back onto real food until Sunday). I also had my Strep B test and had my iron levels tested (they haven't called me, so I'm probably fine). Aaron's grandmother took me out for a pedicure (part of my shower gift) and tomorrow I'm treating myself to a pre-natal massage at the massage therapy school around the corner. Tomorrow also marks the start of Week 37 and being officially considered Full Term (so I no longer have to feel guilty about wanting baby to come already).
I guess that is it for this week. Keep your fingers crossed for me that my next entry will be a Birth Story (I can hope, can't I?).
Until next week,