There have been times, when some poor, unsuspecting first time pregnant woman has let down her guard and asked me a question about being pregnant. Don't blame them, they're pregnant, they don't know they're talking to a dunce.
Anyway, as I'm sure all of you baby-pushers out there have experienced, sometimes I get asked, "How do you know when you're in labor?"
And I have always responded with, "You. Will. Know." Occasionally with the add-on, "When you want to bite your husbands nose off for watching t.v. instead of being down on all fours next to you screaming." Also a great sign.
So, there have been TWO nights now where I have been in that place. And I'm officially worried I'm desensitizing myself. I read a lot about women in my "situation" who ask, "How am I supposed to know I'm in real labor when it's felt like this THE WHOLE FREAKING TIME?!" And now I'm in line with them.
I asked Brett last night, in between death throws, "Are we just waiting for something really serious to happen? Like blood or a babies head popping out, before we let go of the pride and head to the hospital?"
I wanted to bite off his nose.
I fall asleep. I wake up in agony. I fall asleep again. 2 a.m...3 a.m....4a.m....4:30 a.m. good morning stupid neighbor thumping your music like you're car is a is a freaking night club instead of the crappy 4 cylinder sedan it is...5 a.m....6 a.m...fast forward, 9 a.m. and we're still having contractions. Brett has smartly escaped my wrath and frizzled hair, has swept the children (and a pile of laundry) to my mothers house. I am here with my pillows and my laptop for an outlet. And you. You poor reader. Who get to read all about the going-on's of my uterus. Bless you. Will you take me to the hospital now? Much obliged.