May 16, 2011
I feel like I'm at That Point already, where I need to check in at least every day with some kind of NO BABY YET alarm. Even though I'm still technically three weeks away from the dead last of my assorted due dates. (June 5th. Though May 30th and June 2nd also have reasonably good chances of being correct. Take your pick.)
But oh, my lands, my uterus is getting SO GOOD at this Big Tease routine, to the point that I'm actually waking up each morning a little surprised to still be pregnant. Yesterday I started getting contractions at the farmer's market (which was just SO VERY hippie Earth Mother of me, don't you think?), every 20 minutes, like clockwork. They continued during a trip to the playground, throughout an ENTIRE reenactment of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, as performed by Noah And A Bunch Of Kids He Just Met Who Were Happy To Be Bossed Around By Mr. Noah B. DeMille, and back at home, during a few loads of laundry and nesting business and standing up AND lying down AND more water AND ALSO several furtive helpings of Easter candy. It was all starting to feel...genuinely exhausting and hard work in and of itself, like...hmmm, YOU COULD ALMOST CALL IT LABOR, but I was able to take a short nap in the middle of them.
When I woke up, the contractions were still going strong. Stronger, actually. And 10 minutes apart.
The excitement continued until the contractions decided to...stop. Just...stop. Back down to zero, nothing, no baby for you. Because of course. After all that work and recategorization of several hospital bag items, why should there be any POINT to any of it?
(Jason: So what's it gonna take before you ever dare to call the doctor again?)
(Me: Crowning, probably. Up until that happens I am assuming everything is just gas.)
Anyway. Here is what I look like today. Still pregnant, still weirdly and unintentionally dressing in colors that blend into our beige-y walls, huh. And my skin. STILL LIFE IN FLESH TONES.
The basketball is getting a little watermelon-y, I think.
My belly button never turned inside out, this time. It just stretched itself into a flat sort of non-existance, where I look like I never had a belly button in the first place. If this were a sci-fi film that would probably be your cue to destroy me.