Why hello, my long-lost readers! As it turns out, I'm way less interesting as a pregnant Kristin than a trying-to-get-pregnant Kristin. I've been more or less the same for the past few weeks with nothing new or exciting to share. Time is FLYING by; my due date is almost one month away. My hatred of all things "underwear" and "pants" is still holding steady. We had our week 33 ultrasound and check up last week and everything still looked right on target and is measuring appropriately. So why am I not at work and why am I currently writing this with my feet propped up at home, where I'll be for the next eternity until this kid makes his appearance?
Because it's ME we're dealing with here, basically. And anything that has to do with me is going to be different from any plan that was ever put in place. That's why.
Sunday I woke up to go to the bathroom for the 7th time in an hour only to stare down at the toilet paper post-wipe to find it covered in blood. Of the bright red variety. Every morsel of my being froze in time because the last time I checked, I'm pregnant at 34 weeks, not 4 (or 5, or 6) when I usually wipe and find RED. I had absolutely no pain or any indication that something was wrong. I called my doctor and he wasn't overly concerned. This is something common for late pregnancy, probably broken blood vessels as the cervix begins to expand and open. Um, excuse me? I have to walk around with an open CERVIX for the next month? Anything can just fall right out of that thing. I teach science. I know a thing or two about gravity. The rest of the day, I just wiped a snotty, sinus-infection type substance and no sign of any blood. It was just a random thing.
Until Monday morning when I woke up and thought I had started my period because I was cramping. Let me just say, I'm an expert at my body and KNOW when something is out of sync. I also have a high tolerance for period pain because, not to be morbid, but I've had 4 miscarriages that squeezed outta me and a little crampy feeling down there isn't something I stress over. I called the doctor again to be safe, only to be told to come in ASAP as they were pretty darn tootin' sure I'd lost my mucus plug and the period cramps I was having were CONTRACTIONS and NOT cramps. Hold. The. Phone.
When you hear "contractions" you think of labor. Labor isn't something I've allowed myself to think of. It's just week 34! Are you kidding me? I'm not ready for this kid. I haven't had my showers where people could sit and stare at my giant pregnant belly for an hour where I freak out over burp cloths and 75 different styles of fleece blankets. I've waited and worked extra hard to be able to reach that stage of awkwardness! And talks of mucus plugs and dilation? I was counting on at least week 37 before I had to Google Image those things. (Who am I fooling? I'd already Googled both things and let me just tell you: DON'T.)
We head into the doctor's office and after he literally shoves his entire arm up my cookah, it is determined that I've "opened", he's "dropped", I'm a little over 1.5 cm dilated, and my contractions-not-cramps are happening about every hour. Let's go back to the "entire arm up my cookah". Being hugely preggo, that's an area that hasn't seen much action from medical professionals. I'd gotten used to having my belly Nickelodeon Slimed at every appointment. Having a hand take a dive down there isn't a pleasant feeling, ladies. I'm pretty sure if I hadn't dilated any, after that was over, I surely WAS. Jeez Louise.
Obviously, it's a little early for this baby to come into the world. I'm actually questioning if it was really MY embryo that was implanted because I've never been early for anything IN. MY. LIFFFFFE. How can this be my kid? We'd like to make it to at least full term, heck, I'd like to make it til at least week 36. The best choice for the safety of the both of us was for me to come out of work and be put on modified bed rest. I can move around, but I can't be on my feet for long periods of time. Which isn't a problem for me, because sometimes the pressure is a bit much...as if I could look down and see the top of his head. No joke.
There have been numerous women put on bed rest for many reasons, so my anxiety level hasn't gone through the roof just yet. I'm aware of every move I make. I have thoughts of, "What if I go take a shower, how will I know when my water breaks?" or "LAWD I need to repaint my toes because that is gross" and "What am I going to change into when the time actually comes?" and other vain, important things like that. I haven't even had time to get my labor and delivery gown made that says #EPIDURAL in giant letters on the front.
We do have our "go-bags" together and ready. I spent much time reading about exactly what to take and luckily, I found my soul-mate blogger who I knew had the perfect go-bag list. She had me at, "Always put your make-up bag back in the go-bag instead of the cabinet so you'll be able to greet your many hospital guests with a face that covers up your pure exhaustion and perhaps you won't look like total death shit in every picture your child will have from his birth". Or this gem of advice: "Make sure you take a bag big enough to steal extra things from the hospital so you won't have to waste your stuff. Babies are freaking expensive". Watch this quick sketch below that nails exactly what Mike will experience if I find one unpleasant picture of me posted post-birth.
If this video doesn't play, I apologize. I tried embedding it, but sometimes technology repels me. Here is the link you can copy if you reeeeally want to see this clip:. https://youtu.be/dViMtGK63zk
I'm hanging in there and the contractions seem to have stopped for now. There's nothing for me to do except release control over situations I have no control over. Story of my life. I've taken the past two days to adjust that this is real life and I'm having this baby very soon, maybe even sooner than I realize. With all the effort we put into making him, my body is just so happy with itself that it's contained him so far that it wants to meet him. Slow yo roll, uterus. Bottom line is, it doesn't matter how unprepared we are, how I'll look when and after labor hits, or when it decides to happen. This kid has had a purpose since the moment he was created. And he clearly wants it to be made known; sooner rather than later.
