A few nights ago, I had my first-ever “false labor alarm.”
It was so strange.
I’ve just never been one of those women who wavered on the contractions, wondering, “Oh, was that a real one? Is this it?” My contractions are usually super easy to tell if they are real: instead of contractions through my whole belly, they turn low and intense, and they don’t disappear when I start walking–they get more intense. Makes it easy to tell, right?
Well after visiting my chiropractor on Monday, who predicted I would have a baby in four days (what?!?), I started experiencing contractions while getting the kids bathed. I was standing up, walking around, and still experiencing them, although they weren’t super intense.
And it went that way all night. The shower didn’t stop them, laying down didn’t stop them, and walking around seemed to make them worse, although they weren’t the clear “this is it!” pain I’ve experienced in the past. I just didn’t now what to make of it–I couldn’t sleep at all, so of course I cleaned the house, just in case.
While I tried to determine if this was it, I have to say, the funniest thing ever was my husband.
One would think that after three babies he would kind of be prepared for a moment like this, right?
He was flat-out panicking. Running around the house, trying to pack the hospital bag I had already packed, wringing his hands. I perched on the couch and watched him, amused as he took my mind off the contractions. Granted, it was only his first day back to work so I could see why he would be stressed about arranging for a sub and lesson plans, but still–if labor is happening, it’s happening.
Around 2 o’clock in the morning, I finally gave up. I literally mentally shut down and said, “nope, this isn’t happening tonight” and went to bed. Did the trick and woke up with nary a contraction in sight. I still don’t really know what that was all about, but it did show me one thing: my husband and I are totally unprepared for this baby.
He’s running around calling me every 10 minutes, shouting things like, “You can’t take the kids out! You have a medical condition!” and I’m trying to remind him that getting the baby out is kind of the point, yes?
We still don’t have a name, our house is a disaster with remodel projects, and my work is pretty much never going to get done.
How many babies have we had again?
I guess it’s all just a lesson that no matter how many babies you have, or how much experience you think you have as a parent–
You’re never really ready for the life-changing experience of a baby.
So it’s a darn good thing that they are so cute.