False Alarms and Stop Watches

Well, after all that hooplah, my doctor was not able to find any evidence of a rupture in my bag of waters. She took a swab, took a peak, and took a slide sample, and all three were negative. So we're back to square one. The only positive thing that came of our visit on Tuesday was that she saw how much I exploded in just one week. She made a comment about how I look like I could have a baby in the next two weeks, which is slightly encouraging. She also said that I have a hernia in my belly button, which is why it's so protuberant. She also acknowledged my discomfort, as it took me a while to get draped and up or down off the table. All she could say was to take it easy, that I only have a few more weeks, and to try as hard as I can to be patient.  >sigh< To say the least I was rather frustrated, upset, disappointed and tired when we got home. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that it had been a couple of weeks since I had done a thorough cleaning of my floors, but my emotions needed something to release them, so I decided to sweep, vacuum and mop the floors and rugs, including the bedrooms. I even lugged the Dyson vacuum up and down the stairs, moved the couches and coffee table and kitchen table with chairs. All by myself. I wasn't particularly trying to go into labor by doing all of that, I just needed to vent, and for the most part, cleaning is the best way for me to do that.

So my house is clean. Can't say nothing good came out of all that, now can I?

As tired and frustrated as I've been, it hasn't gotten any better. For the last two (today will be three if it keeps up) days, I've had contractions that are nothing special during the day, but in the evening get more intense and more regular. They get to about 7 minutes apart with a 6 or 7 on a pressure scale. Buuuuuuut, of course they don't do anything more. It's like my body is laughing at me. The first night Dominick had his stop watch and had me tell him all the details. When it started, how long it lasted, and what pressure scale it was. He was ready to go to the hospital, but I told him there was no way I'm going back there just to be sent home again. So we waited for a couple of hours to see what happened with them. Eventually Dom fell asleep but he still wanted me to wake him up for every contraction. I got bored with that real quick, so I told him to forget about it, that I'd wake him if my water broke, and we both passed out.

We've decided that there are only three circumstances that will convince me to go back to the hospital. They are as follows, in no particular order:

1. My water breaks...for real. We're talking the gush of fluid, not just leaking.
2. My contractions are 2 minutes apart.
3. My contractions hurt so bad I am unable to speak during them.

Other than these three things, I'm not going to be all that anxious (or easy to persuade) to drive to the hospital. At this point in pregnancy, there is nothing more depressing and emotionally wrenching than going to the hospital in hopes of coming home with baby two days later and being sent home a couple of hours after arriving. If you've been there, you know I'm right.

So for now I'm just sitting back and trying to breathe. Sometimes I want to start crying over the whole thing, but I think that's hormones, I'm not one who cries over stuff. It's even harder now that we have a car seat, so we are 100% ready for out baby to get here. I just want to see him, to hold him, to experience his arrival and bask in the wonder of him. I keep telling myself that it's no more than a couple of weeks away. At least I don't have months left, like friends of mine do. I just have to take a deep breath and relax. I get myself too uptight about it all, too anxious, and that just makes things worse.