Contractions for the Fourth.

Posted on | July 5, 2011 | 8 Comments

I kind of wish I had all sorts of gorgeous pictures of Sullivan and Taylor waving flags, peering out over the marsh, and fireworks exploding in the background to show you. I wish I could tell you of our Fourth of July adventures, of cookouts and friends, and of a tired toddler falling into bed at the end of the day. Unfortunately, our Fourth was little different this year.

Starting Friday night, I began having regular contractions (Braxton Hicks…not painful, but enough pressure to kind of take my breath away). Since they didn’t hurt, I wasn’t too concerned. But they kept coming, so I decided to start timing. Hmmm. Four minutes apart, a minute each. Seemed a little “too” regular, so I called the Labor and Deliver on-call nurse. She was completely unconcerned and told me to chug some water and take a couple Tylenol. I had Taylor pour me a small glass of red wine (put away your flame throwers. I don’t want to hear it), and run a bath. His parents were here for the weekend, so I was glad not to have to worry about what I would do with Sully if the contractions got worse. I soaked in the tub for about and hour, drank my little bit of wine, and chugged as much water as I could. When I got out of the tub, I realized I had some spotting.

Cue the slight panic.

I was only 35 weeks and 5 days pregnant at the moment, and I’d really like this little one to cook until at least 37 weeks just to be sure he or she is good and ready for the grand trip into this world. So, the spotting and contractions kind of terrified me. Taylor called L&D this time, and we were told that a wee bit of spotting is normal and since the contractions still weren’t painful, I needed to stay at home at just try to get some rest. She also asked if we’d had sex in the last fourty-eight hours (insert laugh here). No, no, my pregnant self wasn’t too concerned about doing it after chasing Sully all week, so unfortunately for my husband, that wasn’t the issue. I stopped timing the contractions, slipped into my most comfortable PJs, and settled in for a night of uncomfortable tightening in my belly.

They lasted almost all night, and they slowed the next morning. However, they continued at irregular intervals throughout the weekend. By Sunday night, I had a splitting headache to go with the lovely Braxton Hicks contractions, and I was in bed by seven. On the Fourth, we drove to Kroger to pick up ice cream (pregnant girl’s solution to everything) and check my blood pressure on one of those little arm band thingies. 121/71. Nope, not the issue. The headache finally eased away after chugging even MORE water and laying down as much as possible.

Sadly, my boys missed out on any fireworks or festivities. I felt kind of guilty, and trudged around the backyard with Sully for a bit in the 95 degree weather so he at least got to play outside on Independence day. But sadly, I have no patriotic pictures and my son didn’t get to see anything exciting. Taylor grilled, and we had a nice, quiet dinner together before we tucked our little guy into bed. He didn’t seem disappointed. I guess when you’re nineteen-months-old, missing out on fireworks isn’t a big deal.

So anyway, that was our holiday weekend. I’m still having some contractions, but again, nothing regular or painful. Just enough to be really annoying. BUT, my hair is done and my toes are done…so Baby Dos, starting Sunday, feel free to make your appearance anytime now!

It's always nice to share with your friends.

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"I'm a twenty-five-year old mama to two little boys and married to the love of my life. I have a serious Diet Coke addiction and a tendency to overshare. This is the story of us as we flounder through raising our wild, little boys, moving a million times, and buying and renovating our 1968 Ranch home."

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