Once again I find myself sitting down to write, staring at a blank screen for several hours before conceding that I just don’t really have anything to write about. I have little bits and pieces to share and they’re all baby related because that’s kind of how things are right now. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I don’t always feel like bombarding everyone with a constant stream of baby stuff. Which I totally do all the time anyway, but usually not on purpose.
I had an OB appointment today and was basically told that for the next 6 weeks I need to go to the hospital whenever I have more than 4 contractions an hour. I informed my doctor when she told me this that that would mean that I would need to go there right that second since I had easily just had 4 within the past 15 minutes while my insanely full bladder (from hydrating to try to simmer my stupid uterus down) waited impatiently to be called back for my appointment. She laughed and said that she was serious.
I am less than amused at this because honestly, it seems unnecessary and trust me, I’m a cautious person. The contractions are not regular, are typically not painful and my cervix was checked repeatedly this weekend and is fine. And yet, 4 an hour = hospital. The hospital said to only come if they got regular or painful, and I feel like they are going to get seriously irritated if I’m there every damn day. Which is what happens if I follow the rules.
She also made some heartburn medication recommendations, which aren’t exactly what I am taking right now, but they’re similar and either way, things are getting better. I’m still waking up 5 times a night to pee thanks to the bladder and bitchy uterus, but I’d rather be awake briefly five times than awake once for hours.
I’m kind of flabbergasted that I’m 30 weeks pregnant now. That’s 3/4 of the way through. That means that in 6 weeks, there are no more preterm labor precautions because they no longer consider it preterm. And that? Holy shit. That is crazy. I keep feeling like May is forever away and then I remember that this baby could easily come, healthily in April, and that there’s only a week left in February, and then I freak out. Sometimes in a good way, often in a not so good way because there’s still so much to do and so little time (and let’s be honest, motivation) to actually do it.
All of this sounds a little negative and that wasn’t really my intention because the truth is, I’m so excited about this baby. I guess I had just underestimated how hard the end of pregnancy would get. Or how quickly it would happen. It seems like I went from zero to misery pretty quickly. I would never for a moment wish for my pregnancy to end early because misery that ends in a full term healthy baby is totally worth it, but it’s hard to be as outwardly happy as I was a few weeks ago.
I still revel in the baby kicks and the way my stomach shifts and dances when he’s awake. I still find the fact that I am visibly, notably pregnant possibly one of the coolest and weirdest things ever. I just wish that I would’ve savored those middle weeks/months a little more. I guess it’s all a part of the pregnancy/parenting learning curve.