In which I contract and ramble

I’m contracting this evening.  It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but I thought it would be fun to keep the rest of the world guessing as much as I am.  I typically feel false labor only up high in my belly, but I am feeling these down low so maybe they’re real.

But I’ve never been more than a couple of days early, and I haven’t been early at all in nearly 12 years so it’s probably nothing.

But on the other hand, my June 28th duedate is an estimated date.  My official, by-the-book date would have been June 7 so maybe I’m already past due and really in labor.

But we had good reason to move the duedate to June 28th, since I consistently received negative results on pregnancy tests until what would have been 7 or 8 weeks, and my morning sickness also kicked in 3 weeks later than usual, so I’m probably still 9 days away from being due (ow.  contraction.  7:27 PM).

And I spent much of today in the heat and sun, not eating or drinking enough, and on my feet far too much.  All of these factors commonly contribute to false labor.

But I had 5 strong, down-low, nearly painful contractions in a row, all about 10-12 minutes apart while driving home this evening.

Does anyone want to know why I spent much of today in the heat and sun, not eating and drinking enough?  I’ll ramble on a bit longer about inconsequential things just to keep us all wondering about what really counts: those contractions.

We had 3 dentist appointments this morning, plus about 6 other errands to run.  Hubby was conveniently home today so I took his small gas-friendly car with just 3 children.  We made it 35 minutes or 35 miles into a 43 mile trip when the car died.  We were still firmly in the middle of nowhere, and could do nothing but call Hubby to come get us in the van.

It took him an hour to reach us.  I have to admit he was delayed far less by the 5 children in his entourage than by the fact that I had both sets of keys.

By the time my knight in shining armor arrived on in his great white steed, we had canceled our dentist appointments and rescheduled for July 8 (I’m hoping for a July 4th baby.  What was I thinking?).  Our other errands were in jeopardy but not yet canceled.  We were hot and thirsty and oh-so-happy to see him.

He quickly assessed the situation and we all hopped in the van for a ride to the auto parts store.  Back again to the car, 8 miles each way.

Hubby worked in the blazing sun, with his arms buried in the blazing engine.  I stood by in silent support, being present and pregnant.  It was all I could do to help, so I did my best at it.

After a long hot while, I took the van and children (ow. 7:50 PM. That was a long time, wasn’t it?) for a second trip to the parts store, with a side stop to get a nice assortment of cold drinks.  Hubby stayed behind in the south Texas sun, still hard at work.

We delivered the additional parts and drinks and then beat it back to town a third time for a time-sensitive errand that could be salvaged out of our demolished schedule.  Still, my noble knight worked on alone in the sun.

Finally, the car was running again – but it wasn’t running right.  He called me and told me to make a third stop at the auto parts store before we met up with him again.  We spent even more money this time, giving thanks that they had all the needed parts in stock, and headed out once more into the wilderness.  (little ow.  sort of.  7:58 PM.  Not at all like the big ow when I paid the bill for the 3 round of auto parts.)

With the car just barely running, we limped home.  The 35 mile trip took over an hour, and it had been 5 hours since I left the house.  I had a sunburn on the back of my neck.  I still needed to go for groceries, although 3 other errands had been aborted for the day.

I choked down a bit of lunch at 3 or 4 o’clock and left again, this time in the van.

OK, I’m bored.  Are you?  Here’s the thing: I had that string of semi-painful, good strong contractions on the way home and when I walked in the door it more or less quit.  Now it’s the same old, same old.  Braxton Hicks contractions, every 12-20 minutes, nothing significant.  Oh well.  It’ll probably be 3 more weeks.  Unless it picks up again late tonight.

Tomorrow is my next (last?) prenantal checkup.  Maybe 150 miles in the car will trigger some good contractions.