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November 17, 2001
The past week and a half I’ve experienced a raging case of both contractions and hormones. The combination of the two, I think, is a bit unnerving. Hello, I feel like going crazy at any given moment, but I’m expected to contain myself in this glowing rotund package of a pregnant woman. Late pregnancy is not always a day in the Magic Kingdom.
Take, for example, my midwife appointment on Tuesday. I’ve mentioned before how much I love my midwife practice, how considerate they are, everything. But on Tuesday, I felt like strangling them. I have absolutely no rational reason. Really. But for some reason everything about the birth center was annoying me. Typically I get to pick whichever room I want to have my appointment in, as long as no one else is using that room. On Tuesday no one else was there yet, so I picked my favorite, the Lavender Room.
Just as we got settled, one of the assistants came in and said that there was a laboring woman on her way, and that she had picked the Lavender Room to birth in, and would I mind moving? Now, rational, polite Heather understood that this woman has every right to this room over me. After all, if I go into labor (if, if) during an appointment day, I want the room I requested over someone waiting for a prenatal too. But hormonally charged, pregnant as ever Heather did not feel like moving, and suddenly became angry.
At least rational Heather took over and smiled and said, “Of course I’ll move.” At least I still have been able to maintain a semblance of sanity in the wake of such hormonal overloads. What freaked me out was that I almost started crying because of the change. It’s not like it’s a big deal, but there I was fighting back tears. Crazy.
Later that day I got into a big fight with John over, of all things, Starbuck’s Coffee. I was angry because right after my appointment, I decided I needed a Carmel Machiatto, and stopped to pick up a decaf version on the way home. While waiting for my drink to be brewed some 50ish balding guy came up to me and said “Hey – don’t you know caffeine is bad for the baby?” Yeah, no kidding, brainiac. You know they have this really cool invention called “decaf”. Ever hear of it?
So, to be fair, I was already angry at baldy before I ever set foot in the door. And I was looking for sympathy from John when I related my story to him. His response was something along the lines of how the guy was probably trying to be helpful. Now this was contrary to what I wanted to hear from him. I was thinking more along the lines of “Did you get his license plate number so I can give that guy a piece of my mind,” or something, again illogical, like that. I didn’t want to hear that baldy was trying to be helpful.
So, hormonal me starts arguing and within, oh, 18 seconds flat I am in tears. Not just any tears, but a horrible, sobbing, gut wrenching, snot-driveling dirge of tears. And for what? Asking to go to another room for my prenatal and some guy inquiring about my drink of choice at Starbuck’s.
At least I am aware that I’m crazy. I mean that counts for something, right?
In other news, I’ve having contractions. As in right now. As in every night for the past 5 days. They’ve ranged anywhere from 5 minutes to 10 minutes apart, 30 second to 60 seconds long, for up to two hours. They typically hit me every night about this time (9ish). I’m drinking tons of water and taking long soaking baths in the evening as well. Still, every night it’s the same.
It can’t help that on Tuesday I measured in at (drum roll please) 44 weeks. Excuse me? Baking soda? Can I have a redo on that? My midwives don’t check for dilation or effacement until a mom is in labor, so I have no idea if my cervix has changed or not. Again, logical Heather agrees wholeheartedly with this rule. I’ve had enough experience to know that whether or not I’m dilated at all now has little or no bearing as to when I’ll go into labor. Emotional me says “Check me damn it! I want to know if these contractions are working or not!”
So, I’m still unsure if I’m making measurable progress. I haven’t yet lost my plug, and I’m trying to keep up hope that this won’t go on another three weeks. Although it could, I know. It really, truly could.
I’m thinking about asking my midwives to check my cervix on Tuesday during my regular appointment, and then, if it’s favorable, taking some castor oil Thursday night to bring on labor. I know how bad that can be, but truthfully, I do not care. I want Bajellie here, and I’m not sure how long me or my stretched out uterus can hold out.
Anyway, my brain isn’t working. I’m tired, and as much as I know I will miss being pregnant, I want this all over with. I find myself falling asleep every night with the hope that an overwhelming contraction or my water breaking will awaken me.
So, I’m leaving it at that, and hoping that this hormonal and physically draining roller coaster I’m on will be ending soon…
heather r
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