False Alarm

I really thought last night was it. Though I've been having contractions off and on for a number of weeks now, I've always been able to rationalize not calling the doctor and deciding to stay home and "sleep it off." I've always been able to fall asleep and wake up the next morning with no more contractions. But yesterday was different. I felt like something was off all day long. I had my regular Thursday appointment; fetal monitoring and an ultrasound. Everything was fine, and I went home around 2:00. Around 5:30 the contractions started coming on pretty strong. "That's a little odd," I thought. "They usually don't start until later in the evening when I'm winding down and resting." As painful as they were, I decided to start watching the clock to see if they were regular.

Every ten minutes, on the dot. Nah, that's nothing. Then ...

Every seven minutes, on the dot. Still no big deal.

Five minutes apart, four minutes apart, then just three.

I gave myself an ultimatum. "If they're still three minutes apart at 7:30, we'll call." But 7:30 came and went, just like it does every time I give myself a time limit. And the contractions were still there. I need to take my mind off of it. Get the girls to bed. Pick up the house a little. Get our tax paperwork finished up (yes, we're MAJOR procrastinators this year). We were nearly done with taxes when I couldn't take it anymore. I had to lay down. So out to the couch we went, and my mind starts racing ...

No, not tonight. Is this really it? It has been HOURS, and they're not letting up. Not tonight! We have friends coming into town, and they're over halfway here now. Are we supposed to call them and tell them to turn around and go home? No, they can just stay here without us for one night. The Man would be home in the morning. But my sister's out of town. She's supposed to be the one to take the girls while we're in the hospital. Now what? Okay, okay, I have other friends who would be willing to take the girls for me, I'm sure. We can call Sarah. Oh, no! My doctor isn't in town either! He's not getting back until Saturday. I REALLY, REALLY want him to be the one delivering the baby. He's delivered both the girls, and I just ... well, you know how it is. No one wants to go to the hospital and get a, "Ms. So-and-so? I'm Dr. So-and-so. I'll be delivering your baby tonight. It's nice to meet you. Now, let's see what's going on down here." I know, I know, it's quite common, but that's just seriously unappealing to me.

Then I think, "What am I even thinking about this for??? Who cares WHO delivers him, as long as he gets here safe. But still .... maybe if I take a bath they'll stop." Nope. Shoot, this could really be it. I'd better shower; it could be my last chance for a couple of days. I shower and dry my hair, still thinking things could slow down. I tell The Man to hop in the shower, too. It could be his last chance for a day or so. Then he packs a bag for the girls as I throw a few last-minutes things into my bag. I'm still not convinced, but then the thought occurrs to me that if I wait too long, and this is really happening, there's a chance I could get there and hear the dreaded, "Sorry, honey, it's too late for the epidural. You're going to have to do this one naturally." AAAAHHHHH!!! Naturally??? I'm SO not one of those women. God made drugs for a reason. For me.

That's it. Call the doctor. Call Sarah. Call the hospital. We're going. And off we went at about 11:15 pm. We pull up to the emergency room and manage to get inside (I'm having serious trouble walking at this point), and they tell us to go ahead and go up to the second floor. Are you kidding me? The second floor? We ask for a wheelchair, and The Man whips through the room full of people staring, some smiling at me as I wince at another contraction. I get up to labor and delivery and am put in the triage since there are no beds available. I get hooked up to the fetal monitor so they can watch the baby's heartrate and track contractions. I was previously dilated to between a 1 and a 2 when I was checked at my doctor's office, and as the nurse checked me at the hospital, I found myself disappointed with the news that that had not changed.

I was monitored for another hour or so, and we knew this wasn't going anywhere. The nurse told me I could walk around for an hour or so to see if it would get things going, or I could get a shot to slow things down and just go home. It's two o'clock in the morning. I want to go home and sleep. I'm so tired and super hungry. The shot burns.

Five minutes apart. Then ten. Then totally random. This sucks. The Man wheels me back out to the car, and I crawl in. And there it is. Ahhh, the burn was worth it. I'm SO ready for bed. He asks, "Wanna stop somewhere to get something to eat?" I don't even remember responding. I barely remember climbing the stairs to get to bed.

Then I'm jolted awake by something, but it's dark outside and I'm not fully awake, so I can't wrap my brain around what's going on. It takes a minute, but then I realize. More contractions. Please, no! I don't even care, I'm so tired. Just go back to sleep. Back to sleep. Back to sleee...........

It's going to take a lot more than some crummy, old contractions to get me back in there. At one point during the night The Man said, "Isn't it kind of exciting this way?" I don't know who he's kidding. I'll take a scheduled induction over this any day. But again, on the bright side, at least I'll get to have my own doctor deliver the baby.

We'll keep you all posted when we have real news.