October 09, 2008
The contractions started about an hour before my scheduled OB appointment time, conveniently enough. By the time I started paying attention (shut up, my mascara rolled behind the toilet so I was mighty preoccupied with the retrieval process for awhile), they were about 10 minutes apart. I announced this fact to the receptionist and was a little surprised by the SERIOUS TIZZY it threw everyone into -- like, for real? You take this sort of thing seriously? I barely notice anymore.
I was hooked up the monitors for a non-stress test, and of course the contractions stopped dead the instant I hopped up on that table. The baby has a lovely, wonderfully perfect heart rate and I now have his pointy and incessant jabbiness charted out on paper.
What we don't have is any cervix dilation or signs of actual labor. Surprise!
(We also don't have a confirmation call from the hospital yet about my c-section or arrangements for me to come in and get pre-op blood work done. Which raised everyone's eyebrows because yeah, I should have gotten that call by now. I am now waiting for ANOTHER call from Office Manager Person today, who will be double- and triple-checking that I AM INDEED SCHEDULED, and I will have ya'll know that I kept smiling the whole time and refrained from throwing the contents of the bio-hazardous waste containers at ANYONE, lest I get accused of OVERREACTING OR ANYTHING.)
(I actually saved my anger and dirty looks for the poor cashier at Starbucks who informed me that they were out of the sausage, egg and cheese Yuppie McMuffin that I really, REALLY wanted, because come on, I was just told that I wasn't in labor after all and NOW THIS? SERIOUSLY? I don't want a savory fancy folded piadiavanno or whatever the fuck made up word Starbucks is calling their new breakfast sandwiches, I WANT THE MCMUFFINY ONE. I mean, how much can the universe expect one person to take?)
I gained two pounds this week -- my most ever! -- putting me at 21-ish pounds total. (Way to GO, five months of vomiting. You so rock!) When I was lying down my doctor guessed the baby is around eight-ish pounds, but then when I sat up and my belly tumbled forward and outward into its full glory, she said, "Oh. Wow. Hmm. That's a little bigger."
I are eight-ish punds. I are so not that fat. I totally judging rite now.