Procrastination is an Art

Things I Have Been Doing Instead of Packing:

Knitting

Playing Hearthstone

Panicking about how much we have to pack

Keeping the baby out of the half packed boxes where she likes to pull stuff out by the fist full because, “Weeeeee! I’m helping!”

Feeding the baby

Feeding myself

Having silent panic attacks as I stare off into space

Trying to calm Matt down from his own panic attacks

Wondering if Red is still gonna be able to help me pack cause he said he’d be home all day today but he’s been missing for hours now

Trying to put the baby down for a nap

Panicking some more

Trying to figure out when I’m going to see all my friends before we have to go

Leaving voice mails on landlords’ phones because LET US RENT A HOUSE. WE NEED A PLACE TO LIVE

Having anxiety induced diarrhea

Picking at my skin obsessively

Reading other people’s blogs

Writing this post

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36 Weeks 3 Days

Sooo at my doctor’s appointment this morning they asked me if I wanted my doc to check my cervix (and all who are not a fan of hearing about baby things or medical stuff flee the room in a shriek of horror) and I said, “Sure!” Partially because hey, why not but mostly because I was hoping to hear some sort of progression on this whole labor thing because OH MY GOD I AM SO SICK OF BEING PREGNANT.

It’s been getting hot as all get out here lately and while we are fortunate to have a dry heat as opposed to the soup-like heat of places with humidity it still makes it hard for me to do anything. I feel huge and I sweat like I’m in a sauna. So honestly if this baby wants to come a little early I’m like, “Fine. Yes. Do it. GET OUT.”

(Then the nesting part of my brain is like, “Wait! We can’t have the baby now! We don’t have a dresser set up yet! Or all the clothes washed! Or any other number of little random things I can think of!”)

So! Anyway! Cervix check! My doctor checked me out and said, “It feels like you’re about two centimeters dilated.” She probably said some other stuff too but my brain had been all, “BOOGEDEWAHHHH?!?!” And I didn’t hear much other than a sort of dial tone sort of noise. Cause dilated? Doesn’t that mean, you know, labor?!

Turns out not necessarily (if the fact that I’m sitting at home typing this instead of at the hospital having a baby wasn’t already a big giveaway on that question). Apparently women can sit at two centimeters for quite a while and as my mom pointed out, effacement is also an important part of being able to deliver a baby and that even if you’re at 10 centimeters, if you’re not effaced at all you ain’t having that baby yet.

My doctor seemed really calm and said it’s possible that I could go into labor in the next few weeks or so but really, there’s no way of knowing. So, we’ll see? I guess I’m happy that all the false labor I went through on Saturday wasn’t entirely for nothing. Cause that was fun. Little clusters of contractions that were too varied in length and intensity for me to consider calling my ob or getting ready for the hospital. They still hurt like an SOB though so that was fun. But hey! Dilation! Things are kind of happening!

My mom thinks I’ll give birth around June 22nd which is funny cause that was my original due date for this pregnancy to begin with. It got pushed back to July 1st when one of the ultrasounds measured the baby as being about two weeks smaller than expected. (That has to be one of the least fun things, honestly. You think you’re a certain period along and then with a wave of their [ultrasound] wand, poof! Two weeks of progress disappear without a trace! Abracadabra!)

I guess this all means I should maybe think about packing my hospital bag or something. As impatient as I am to finally meet my baby there is still a good dose of fear in the realization that THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING OMG.

Panic! On the Roadtrip

So I get to check off, “Rush to the Hospital in a Panic Over the Baby” off my To Do while Pregnant list! ((Spoiler alert, everything’s okay.))

Saturday morning was going to be spent in a jovial state; my friend and I had made plans to drive down to see the world’s largest pistachio. It’s not too far away from us, like three hours, and I figured any little road trips like this need to happen before I have the baby since I’m pretty sure my schedule is gonna be pretty hectic and different after the fact.

I woke up early on Saturday, got ready and away we went! And of course it was oh… About halfway there that I realized that I hadn’t felt the baby move at all since the night before. Normally this little one is very active early in the mornings. I’ve long gotten past the being able to sleep in phase of my life because the Early Morning Internal Gymnastics Routine is pretty damn punctual for someone who doesn’t have access to a watch or smart phone. So it was weird that I hadn’t felt anything yet.

I tried to calm the shrieks of panic in my head and focused very intently and very quietly on my uterus, feeling for even the smallest little flutter or motion. When I didn’t feel anything for half an hour I got impatient and poked and prodded at my stomach, determined to wake baby up if indeed it turned out they were merely sleeping.

For once, baby was in the front of my uterus instead of skulking in the back, practicing for their teenage years. I was able to clearly feel a limb of some sort through my flesh. But poke or press as I may I couldn’t feel the baby move or react to my pestering at all. It was around then that all rational thought flew out my brain and I went, “Hey, I think I need to call my doctor.”

And of course we were in a long, desolate stretch of road. The kind of road that is the Land of No Cell Phone Service. My friend was all politeness and understanding as she turned the car around so we could drive back towards the city and the precious, precious cell phone towers.

I called and described what I was experiencing and the on call doctor told me it would be good to come in so I could get strapped to a monitor. My friend magically got us back to the city in almost half the time it took us to leave it without speeding too horribly or killing us all in a wreckage of twisted, burning metal.

I got to the hospital, sat down in the bed, lifted my shirt, got the monitor strapped on and then my baby went, “HOLY HELL I HATE THESE THINGS.” *punch*kick*squirm*wiggle*back flip*pirouette*

I was only there for about half an hour, all things considered. They had me chug some juice and water just to make sure I wasn’t low blood sugar or dehydrated and so they could monitor all the baby’s movements. I got to watch my baby violently kick the monitors through my tummy as I sipped cranberry juice and tried to recover from the adrenaline crash.

Babies really do have a tendency to hate the Doppler and the like and since my baby kept trying to run away from the dang thing (Keep it up while you can! You will only run out of space more as you get bigger!) the nurse kept having to come in to readjust the monitor so the heartbeat was audible.

I’m pretty sure that if my baby could talk they would have said something like, “Geeze mom, just because I choose to sleep in once doesn’t mean I’m dead or anything! Gawd you make such a big deal out of everything!”

I’m glad everything was okay and I’m glad no one made me feel silly or like I had overreacted for coming in. In fact everyone who dealt with me: the triage nurse, my actual nurse, and the doctor, all made a point to say that they would much rather prefer that I call and come in if something feels wrong or off than to not. I appreciated that because no one wants to be treated like a nuisance when they’re concerned about health related anything; baby or not.

So no giant pistachio for me. But I still got to spend the day with a good friend; a good friend who didn’t make a big deal out of turning around and said I had been very calm and collected through the whole thing. (Which is amazing because I felt like a complete wreck on the inside. Yay bluffing!) July 1st is narrowing in and I can’t believe it’s coming in so fast.