Yesterday and today I had contractions as well as miserable pain. The contractions go away when I rest or sit in the tub, but they do take one by surprise. Thankfully I have a mute button on my work phone to hush the yelping. I took one of my clients quite by surprise in the middle of a phone call; I just told her it was cell phone distortion.
There was something not quite contraction-y about some of the pain, particularly as it related to the emptying of my renal system, which I mentioned to the doctor this afternoon. Turns out a nice bit of false labor goes great with a bladder infection. I’m now up to three, one for every trimester. Tom has agreed that it is for the common good that I set an alarm clock for 2:30, even if it wakes him up, to relieve myself. They keep recurring because I’m a heavy enough sleeper that I can’t rely on my body to wake me up before things have a chance to sit and stagnate (…yum…) and an alarm seems to be the only solution. That and cutting off my liquids at 6pm.
What else…the baby is officially head down, yay! We had suspected as much but we have doctor confirmation. The baby’s head isn’t especially far down yet–I have not experienced “lightening” or “dropping”–but the doc said the baby is around the -1 station so she is hopeful that I will not go far past my due date. Nothing’s a guarantee but I like that line of thinking.
Work-wise I completed my “how to do my job in my absence” folder. Mentally I have a touch of senioritis; part of it is anticipating the enormous change about to come and part of it is that I haven’t had more than two hours of unbroken restful sleep in months. (I can wake up enough to sense my leg is numb and I need to flip but apparently not enough to get out of bed and take care of my poor bladder. I should just put a waterproof pad under me, wear Depends, and have done with it.) Focusing on real work is an uphill daily battle. I have the same loopy manic energy I had in college where everything I drank was a diuretic–alcoholic or caffeinated–and we decided not to ever sleep. That plus the hormones and I’m a walking mental patient–I laugh too hard at things that aren’t funny and I get horribly emotional about things that aren’t that sad.
I suspect this is why Tom has retreated into the vast world of Lego Star Wars for Wii; I don’t blame him. It’s colorful and happy there and things are supposed to be a little surreal. My boss also seems concerned that I plan to work until I can’t any longer and will go into labor at the office. Even looped on estrogen and prenatal vitamins and ridiculous quantities of Calming Chamomile Tea (not nearly as effective as a good knock of tequila, I might add), I’m more useful to him there than at home. Plus at home I will be insanely bored and drive Tom to drink.
Two more weeks and I’m in the week 37 full-term safe zone. Three more weeks after that and I’m at my due date. Two weeks after that and I’m overdue and heading to the drugstore for some castor oil. We’ll see when the baby decides to join the party; I’m praying for sooner rather than later.