Was that a Contraction or do I have to Fart?

At 38.5 weeks I finally felt pregnant. Ladies, NOW I get. Now I understand. Being pregnant sucks. I gained damn near 20lbs overnight. OK not really overnight but it seemed like it. I woke up one morning and my belly had popped out, the feet which I could no longer see when I looked down, hurt like hell, my boobs swelled up twice their already large size, and I was peeing every five minutes. It was freaking awful.

Everything hurts and I'm dying.
Why women do this more than once is beyond me.
Are you people crazy?
I never want to be pregnant again.

Getting out of bed was a feat in itself. My baby felt like she was literally swimming IN my bladder, I was peeing ten times a night. Those two things together had made me a miserable person. I was SO tired from not sleeping more than an hour at a time, and in so much pain from rolling my giant ass out of bed and walking to the bathroom. Looking back, pregnant-tired is so much better than my baby won't sleep at night-tired.

Oh the hormones. I can't say it enough, Joel was amazing. He handled every breakdown I had with so much love and care it made me question if I even deserved to be in the presence of such a remarkable man. I cried about everything. I cried over a TV commercial featuring a puppy. I cried because I had to get up and pee for the millionth time. I cried because the ingredients on my sandwich weren't in the right order. I cried because Joel brought me home Skittles. Then I cried because how dare he bring me a bag of Skittles with more yellow ones than red ones. I was a lunatic. 5150 psych hold, Brittany Spears circa 2007 type of lunatic. Why Joel still married my crazy ass after all of that I will never understand.

You guys, I had a mental breakdown about a box. A box. A full on ugly cry, face full of snot, nobody loves me, I'm going to raise this baby alone sob-fest. At my house, I have a small box of basic tools. Joel had used the tools in that box to assemble the crib and other various baby containers. That box didn't make it back into the garage where it belonged once Joel was finished. I'd asked Joel to put that box back probably three or four times. He ignored me. Men read: never ignore your pregnant partner. If she says jump, instinctual you reply with "how high". If she asks you to do something for her, you do it, immediately, without question. We have scarified our bodies, mainly our boobs and vaginas, to bring your child into this world. The least you can do it put away a damn box, or go to every Rita's Italian Ice within driving distance to find the elusive Red Sour Patch Kid flavor. Just do it, it will all be over soon.

Joel is what I call a "later person". I am a "now person". He'd rather do menial tasks later, whereas I think its best to just do it now. We still argue about that to this day. Anyway, I walked by that damn box for tenth time and did what all grown ups do, I called my Mommy crying. Over a box. "Joel didn't put the box away like I asked him to do. He doesn't care about me. When this baby comes she is going to sit in a shit filled diaper for hours because hes a later person. Why can't he just put away the box! I don't ask for much". Irrational. Ridiculous. Unreasonable. My mother called me out on my crazy, my Dad sent me a meme he created that said "#boxlivesmatter", and Joel finally moved the stupid box. I love my family. My poor daughter doesn't stand a chance with these people.

The Sunday before I gave birth, my Mom took us all out to dinner at a local mexican restaurant. They were all DONE with my being pregnant, all 4 weeks of it at that point, and wanted this baby out now. So we tried the old wives tales. After a meal of spicy food, she took us all off-roading in her SUV bouncing me all around the back seat. And by "off-roading" I mean she drove me around the grounds at work and drove circles in our very own backyard. Maybe that stuff worked because two days later I lost my mucus plug. That thing looked a Guinness Book of World Record winning snot rocket. Do not google what that looks like, its disgusting. You have been warned. This was a sign that shit just got very real. I'm having a baby, probably within a week. The next day I went to to the OB for my 39 week check. She was SO excited that I'd lost my mucus plug and checked me and I was 2cm dialated and 50% effaced. The clock is ticking. The time is near.

I'd read a lot of stuff in on the internet about being pregnant and I'd talked to a lot of formerly pregnant women. NOT ONE OF YOU PEOPLE TOLD ME about the ever so elusive "stripping of the membranes". I was not warned. Definition: freeing the membranes of the amniotic sac from the wall of the lower segment of the uterus in the small opening around surrounding the cervix. The doctor recommended it, described the procedure and proceeded to strip my membranes using her fingers. She told me it would feel "slightly uncomfortable". Liar. She lied again. That shit hurt for real. The pain that I felt during the procedure and in the days to follow confirmed and validated my want and need for all the drugs. Needless to say, I'd start my maternity leave on that day, August 2, 2017.

I was woken up around 3am the next morning with a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. Was that a contraction? It can't be, I probably just have to poop. I fell back asleep for about a forty five minutes before I was woken up again by the same pain. Maybe I just have gas and have to fart. We'd gone to Golden Corral the night before for dinner, and if you'd ever eaten there, you'd also be leaning toward it being gas and not a contraction. Joel gets up around that time and starts getting ready for work. I'm in denial at this point that I'm in labor. Joel kisses me and my baby belly goodbye and heads to work. I tell him to keep his phone close just in case I'm actually in labor. I figure I'd try and use the bathroom. Oh. My. God. My body literally emptied itself. Lets just say I had to use and plunger and flush the toilet about three times. I read on the internet that one way your body prepares itself for labor is to empty all of its contents. My body did that an more. As the hour that it took Joel to get work passed I was more and more convinced this was it. Oh shit. I'm in labor. I text my Mom, she stops by my room on her way to work and pretty much confirms for me that I'm most likely in labor.  Then she does what every supportive mother does, she leaves for work and tells me she'd check on me later and for me to call L & D and keep her posted. Gee, thanks mom. Before she runs out the door she tells me to call Joel NOW. I follow her instructions and call Joel just as he gets to work and tell him to turn his ass around because today is the day.

Contraction Counter

My New England Patriot fanatic Baby Daddy is beyond excited. The date is August 3, 2017. He really wants me to have our baby on this day. He literally tells me I have 17 hours to get this baby out. August 3rd also happens to be Tom Brady's birthday. Over my dead body. If I am in labor, and it's 11:59pm and they tell me to push, I'm not doing it. My baby will most certainly not be sharing her birthday with Mr. Deflate-gate.

39 weeks, 4 days