Today in Costco, pushing the SUV sized, cart plus the kids, I had to stop and catch my breath when a cramp seized me. Not a good cramp, either. Are there good cramps? No, the kind that is low and deep, and if I were farther along, I would notice, and figure that labor was beginning. It scared me. The first one I was startled by, and thought it was weird, then another came. I stood holding my belly until it went away, then made the kids get out of the cart and we headed for the car.
Even though I knew this was probably not a good thing, I have done this before and could tell it wasn’t the real thing. But it’s not a good sign, either. Jeffrey came early, and with Eric, I was dilated to 3 cm at 30 weeks, and had to be on bedrest until his lungs tested ok to breathe air, at 36 weeks. He was born at 37 weeks, and had trouble with his suck and with coordinating eating. Having a real preemie is something I don’t fantasize about.
The doctor called me back as soon as I got home, and told me to go lay down, drink some water, and take some tylenol. Oh, and not to pick up my kids or anything else. The idea of bedrest makes me feel insane, but having a teeny, not-quite-ready-to-be-here baby really frightens me.
(Baby? This is your mama. I know I complain a lot about being pregnant, but I really want you to stay put for a few more months, ok? I will gladly barf every day until you finish baking in there and are ready to join the world on your own. Just stay put, ok? I love you. ~Mama.)