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Pre-Labor Hell

I'm just dangerous enough to know how to search for stuff online effectively, and I'm obsessive/stubborn about it, not to mention bored out of my gourd. So I started looking up Prodromal labor, because everything I've been going through seems to fit it. I've had contractions (sometimes painful, sometimes barely noticeable) on and off for at least the past week and a half now and I am entirely sick of it and want it to end - especially since my quality of sleep since last Thursday night has been zero to nil.

On Friday late afternoon - when I was hooked up to the monitors (Non-Stress Test), I was contracting very regularly, but the contractions were so weak that I could barely feel them. After my membranes were stripped, we left the hospital and walked around Target for about an hour, and they started getting more intense, but I could still walk through them, so I thought, well, they'll probably take a few hours yet to ramp up. The freak blizzard was in full swing when we drove home, and the contractions were the same in the car - intense, but manageable. At home, I kept upright and walking around, and they seemed to be about the same intensity and timing. I kept looking out the window and seeing the snow come down and thought - "Oh, God - I hope my water doesn't break/I have to get to the hospital tonight, because we can't drive there in this weather, and we'll be snowed in by morning and won't be plowed/thawed out until tomorrow afternoon, so I hope I make it until then".

Then I started alternating sitting down and standing and walking, and by about 7:30 they were tapering off. By 8, they were back to their barely-noticeable crampy selves (and decelerated), and stayed that way until I finally went to bed around 1 a.m., frustrated.

I didn't sleep more than 5 hours, total - my hips get so damn cramped up at night, and my back hurts, so I'm going to the bathroom and turning over to the other side about every 2 hours, and lying awake in-between those 2 hour periods of blissful non-existance.

Saturday morning - more crampiness, no regularity/intensity for the first few hours. I started to really feel like a failure.

Saturday afternoon - so damn hormonal and frustrated, I felt like crying. Instead, I took a short nap. Then I got so mad, I decided to shovel out 1/2 the driveway. It got my adrenaline pumping, which is totally opposite of what I'm supposed to be doing, but I was so mad I didn't care.

Saturday late afternoon - I break down and cry in the shower. I'm exhausted, feel like a failure, and am scared out of my mind that I'll have to be induced and that when they break my water it will be full of meconium and I'll end up with an emergency c-section.

Saturday night - I set a voicemail message on my phone and decided I'm not taking any more calls unless it's Andrew, because I'm sick of people asking if anythings happened yet and I'm VERY sick of hearing birthing horror stories because all they make me do is tense up and get upset. I felt like I'd been run over by a bus, but still went to bed late and still only slept about 5 hours total.

Sunday morning - same old, same old. Nothing to write home about. Andrew goes to help a friend of his brother and sister-in-law move. I don't care because there's nothing going on here. I start cleaning up the place and find a firewire cord so I can set up my computer speakers and blast music. I'm not feeling very hungry/still hormonal, and in the afternoon, I cry and scream in the bathroom. Then I take a shower and cry and scream some more, but I also have a breakthrough in my emotional state and start feeling better now that I "let it all out".

Andrew calls, and I ask him to pick up a wet burrito at Juano's - I'm trying Mexican food to see if I can upset my stomach and get contractions going. I'm ravenous when he gets here, and feel uncomfortably full for a few hours afterwards. I clean a bit, sit a lot, and read more on prodromal labor. I'm still exhausted and decide that from now on, I'm going to go to bed by 10 p.m. every night, just to give myself 9 hours of "potential" sleeping time. I call the Birthing Center and ask if it's ok to take Unisom or something - they recommend Tylenol PM, so I have Andrew go pick that and some milk up. I take the Tylenol PM at 9:30, and by a little after 10 I'm falling asleep in the recliner, so I go to bed.

midnight - I'm awake - Andrew's just coming to bed. So I get up and go to the bathroom, come back and fall asleep with relative ease.

Monday (today) 2:30 a.m. I'm awake again - another bathroom break and then......I can't sleep. I've had about 4 hours of sleep dammit, COME ON. I'm still between waking and dozing at 3, so I go get my iPod. I listen to my relaxation exercise and some classical music, but I only think I slept about 30-40 mins.

4 a.m. - Andrew is snoring, my back aches like a MF and I've had enough. I take my iPod, go out to the kitchen and take another dose of Tylenol PM, wrap myself in a blanket, put down a pillow for lumbar support and lay back in the recliner. I listen to the Relaxation recording over and over, and realize I'm dozing in and out during it - but I'm too tired to care.

6 a.m. - I have one of the most disturbing dreams I've ever had during my pregnancy. The details are fuzzy - but something about I'm at some kind of lake cabin/house - there's water nearby to swim in. Anyways - I get my swimsuit on and decide not to go swimming right away - I'm going to sit on the couch with Andrew. For some reason, we're sitting/wrapped up in newspapers, and he puts more down for me to sit on next to him. My Mom is there in the background somehow. All of a sudden the baby starts kick kick kick kick kicking - fast and hard, like a seizure. I look down at my shirt (I have a shirt on now, not a swimsuit) and spots of blood are appearing in a line straight down the middle. I pull back my shirt and tears are forming in my skin and the blood is pooling fast and the baby's kicking is making it splatter all over the place and we're all horrified and my only thoughts are to grab and push down on my belly and pray that Andrew or my Mom call the ambulance because I'm going to be ripped open and die.

I wake up and the baby really is kicking like crazy for a moment, then stops.

I lay there, shocked, horrified and adrenalized for a few moments. Then I'm so exhausted again, I just try to fall back asleep and doze in and out until Andrew's alarm goes off about 40 minutes later.

I've had a few good contractions this morning and afternoon, and the baby is squirming around like mad, but I'm feeling so dejected that it's not real labor that I don't care. I took a shower and called in to work - saying I'm taking the day off for some R&R - which is what I'm supposed to do. I also ate breakfast and drank over 32 oz. of water in record daily time (since dehydration can cause false labor pains, I'm trying to drown them with water). I think since I'm also having diarrhea, I'll try to go for 96 oz. today. I mean, what the hell's the difference if I feel even more bloated and tight (even though my ankles sure aren't showing it)? I took an hour and a half nap today at noon, and will probably take some more Tylenol PM and lay down for another nap pretty soon - because exhaustion is the bane of labor and I'm doing all I can to feel rested up, since I'm not sleeping at night.

I used to get excited over the sharp shooting pains/contractions and my constant dull-backache companion. It felt so masochistic - I was cheering them on. That was until they faked me out royally this weekend. Now I feel them and am just like, great, another one. Fabulous.

My only consolation is that I must be effacing/dilating/my cervix is moving from posterior to anterior at least a little, because otherwise I wouldn't have been able to have my membranes scraped, and also I found (part of?) my mucous plug in the toilet today. Which means I'll have the kid anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks from now, so I'm like YAAAAaaaaa.y..yyy.......ah, what the F* ever.

My next Dr.'s appointment isn't until Wednesday morning, when I'll be at 41 weeks. That's 2 more nights away, which I need to stop obsessing about, because it (the "trying to sleep" part) just upsets me. I have no idea what's going to happen then, so don't ask. All I know is that I asked to be induced as late as possible, which I'm thinking is early next week - but I could be totally wrong.

Oh, and if you're thinking of calling or writing me after reading all this - just hold off, ok? Like I said - NOT TAKING PHONECALLS. I'll be fine, but right now I just can't handle a Pity Party. I'm only writing all this down to get it the F* out of my head so I can try to relax. And posting it online is cathartic.


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