Oh that? Just a Little Pre-Term Labor...

While everyone was kicking back brewskis and standing around the grill this weekend, I was having a fun round of very serious looking preterm labor. I hope you noted the sarcasm there, or at least have enough experience with labor to know how very not fun it is. But I digress....

I had gone in to the hospital for some horrible pains (somewhat reminiscent of labor, hence the concern) in my thighs, groin, lower abdomen and back. At that point I was contracting every 3-4 minutes. For a few hours my local hospital tried to stop the labor through various medications. Not only were they unsuccessful, but managed to risk my life after insisting I take another dose of a muscle relaxant as my blood pressure bottomed out. I'd really like to take a moment to vent on my local hospital's level of care, but that's only slightly less interesting then this!

Anyways, they finally decided to transfer me to a bigger hospital about an hour away. That hospital decided it would be in every one's best interest if I wasn't dead (I agreed), and so they let the labor progress, at that point I was contracting every 2-3 minutes, and beginning to dilate. I was given a low dose of pain killers, and decided to sleep for a bit, because from what I remember, birthing babies is no easy thing. I woke a few hours later to find that the contractions had stopped. Ceased. Disappeared. No more. They ran some tests, poked around under the hood, and then just sent me on my merry way.

Basically S decided that she wasn't as ready as she thought, and plans on giving it at least a few more days. Until then, I'm on as much bed rest as is morally allowed for a mother of one little trouble seeking toddler.

Spur-of-the-Moment Photo Shoot

"Trouble?" You say, "Such a cute little angelic face can cause trouble?" Yes. Trouble. She took it upon herself, in my absence to fight the coffee table at Grandpa's house (though to be fair it's been shooting her dirty looks, a real oak instigator, that one). I  think she was looking for a way to get to the hospital, to see her Mama. When it was time for me to go home, she arrived with her grandpa and jumped into my arms, then rested her little head on my shoulder and sighed. I just barely caught sight of the bloody band aid on her forehead, but when I took a better look I was practically off and running (okay high speed waddling) toward the ER again. Luckily, some very sweet L&D nurses talked me down, and helped me clean her up, just in time for me to properly harass my father on why the poor child wasn't wearing pants (she had an accident). I swear, the world falls apart with out me.

On a serious note though, this weekend's event made me truly realize that my little girl won't be the little one much longer. And it kills me to know that. It kills me to know that soon I won't be her absolute everything, and soon we'll have to share each other with someone else.

But then I realize, soon we get to have something else to share with each other. Soon I'll be showing K how a newborn's nose can scrunch into the cutest little ridges, and sharing the joy of those first gazes, giggles and grins. And soon I'll be introducing S to her amazing big sister, the person I breathe for, the first face I have to see for the day to even matter.

Above all, soon all the joy and the bliss and the happiness that is my life will double. Along with it will come twice as much stress, and fear of course, but it's a small shadow in the high noon that is my life right now.

P.S.  Now I have to repack my hospital bag! Really debating packing two... one for false labor, one for real labor, but seeing as my crystal ball is in the shop, I probably won't know the difference and should just keep it down to one. My OCD is disappointed.