Increasingly grouchy, that is. In about 12 hours or so I'll be more pregnant than I've ever been. It's not the happiest place. I was pretty ok with this last week when I had my dr visit. I was feeling good. I was getting sleep (mostly). When he asked what I wanted to do, just wait and see or be induced, I hesitated. I wasn't sure. I'm awful at making any decision right now. I'd really like to go into labor by myself. Labor that ends in a baby without stalling halfway through. He was pretty convinced that this wouldn't be an issue, and indicated that he didn't think I'd even make it to the next appointment. And then I had a fleeting thought of, "what if I become totally miserable in the next week?" It seemed kind of unlikely at the time. So I said, "Let's schedule an induction." Ok, Monday? Uh, panic, no not Monday, that's like 5 days away. I'm not ready. Thursday. How about Friday? Ok, Friday it is. He says, "I'll be really surprised if you make it to Friday." My thoughts: ante up or shut up.
Fast forward. Sunday morning 2 am. Awoken from a deep sleep by a contraction. They continue at 4 minutes apart for the next 4 hours. These are not pansy Braxton hicks contractions, where you're like, "Oh, that's kind of uncomfortable. Look, Honey, touch my belly it's rock hard." They are I need drugs or some other form of relief contractions. Walking makes them more intense. Nothing makes them go away. They are no less painful than real labor (seriously, I've done it twice). According to every piece of medical advice, I should probably go to the hospital. But I'm stubborn, I don't like waking people up in the middle of the night, and I don't like hospitals. I would have to be convinced that I am dying to go to the hospital and risk sitting there through the middle of the night, uncomfortable, getting no sleep, inconveniencing someone else, and not return with a baby. Or I'd have to feel like I'm playing my cards right, and that I'd be miserable enough that the nurse or doctor would have pity on me and not send me home, but instead augment my labor. Or that I could fool them with my 3 minute apart contractions long enough that they admit me. And then they just stop. And then they come back hours later. And then stop. And then come back. And then stop. And then come back, this time for 8 hours, maybe it was longer. At one point I'm convinced I am dying and actually pack a hospital bag and tell a couple people we might head to the hospital soon. And then I skip a contraction. Then they are back. I try to sleep, but I'd need drugs for that, and not the Tylenol I'd been taking. They get down to two minutes apart. For nearly an hour. I've already figured out that I'm not in labor. Labor would be welcomed. This is just prodromal labor. Which is basically the same thing as labor, only it's really slow, and doesn't end with a baby. Finally I fall asleep around the same time the contractions slow down. And I think, "Why, oh why, did I not take him up on the offer when he said Monday?" Because, I'm pretty sure this will repeat. Every day. Until Friday.
Sure, eventually I would go into labor by myself. But by that time I'd be so tired and in so much pain, not to mention the kid might be 10 pounds. I just can't see it going well. Pretty much I don't go into labor until my water breaks. And it never breaks on it's own. Seriously, I wish that it would. So I'll be having a baby on Friday. By elective induction. Because my doctor says it's ok. Because I'd like to not be the sleepless grouchy waddling pregnant lady anymore. And if I wind up with a C section, all the ladies who have contractions that start out mild at 20 minutes apart and move to death intensity at 2-3 minutes apart over 12 hours and wind up with a baby without Pitocin can just say "I told you so, you should have let nature take it's course." Bah. This is why we have doctors, drugs, and hospitals.
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