UPDATE: 12 days until my due date!! That means that I feel like bloated, moody, exhausted crap held together by maternity jeans.
So at around 1:30 a.m. this morning, I started feeling like all around misery. I was having stomach cramps and nausea followed by what felt like contractions. They weren't much stronger than my normal Braxton-Hicks. Then 5:45 a.m. rolled around and it was still going. I called my midwife, who promptly told me to get some rest and to call her later to give her an update. She was a great calm, reassuring force. I already felt bad calling that early and I hate calling in general because I always feel like I'm being paranoid. So, I got more rest and there was no change. I called to give her the update and she told me she felt that it sounded to her like false labor. I was bummed. Mostly because it meant that I was feeling like shit for no reason. I know that this last stretch of being knocked up is slow and agonizing. I know that I'm looking for ANYTHING to indicate that "it's time!". BUT DAMN!! Since false labor is playing with my emotions I wanted to write it a letter. From the heart, of course.
Dear False Labor,
Thanks for existing. No, really. Thanks for being around. For reminding me, and countless other desperate, miserable women that nature is a bit of a practical joker. Because right now, as I am grasping at my sanity, I could really use a good chuckle at my uterus. My already raging hormones could use another twist in the tracks. I totally want to get my hopes up that this is finally it, that we will meet our newest family member in due time. I wasn't at all on the verge of tears all night and then this afternoon when your god forsaken name was dropped.
Doesn't matter because pregnancy is a bitch.
I'm so eager to not be pregnant that I don't give two shits about labor pains. Desperate is ugly on everyone, and I'm wearing it. Cross your fingers for me would ya?
Hugs til later