Thoughts on still being pregnant

The two selfies I've managed to take recently: Trying to make some room for Baby Boy to just come on out (unsuccessful, if you were wondering). // and Micah telling Baby Boy all the fun things they'll do together once he's borned. 

Twice now, I've been SURE it was time to head to the hospital.

The first time was about a week ago. I woke in the morning with a sharp pain in my side. Unlike the dull ache of sore muscles or the weight of my heaving stomach- this pain felt new and horrible and wasn't relieved by shifting positions.

Since I had placental abruption with the boys, I was sure that the pain I felt was the placenta pulling away from the uterus. I lay next to my husband, waiting for him to wake up and comfort me - but eventually I had to get up to pee. On my way back to bed, I felt light-headed.

This is how is started last time, I thought. On my way back from the bathroom- I felt light headed, then started bleeding. I waited for the bleeding.

I lay carefully back down in bed and tried to hold very still. Every time I shifted my weight, I anticipated the slight pop I felt right before I was wheeled off to surgery, the pop of pressure on my pelvic bone and the disconnect of my organs.

I waited. And nothing happened.

I couldn't feel the baby moving, and started to panic. He is always moving. Fifteen minutes went by and he was holding mysteriously, upsettingly still.

Eventually I woke my husband up and we prayed together. The baby started moving, the pain went away, and I got up.

I moved slowly all day, waiting for the blood and the panic and my new boy. But none of those things came, and the next day we were back to business as usual.

It wasn't time yet, but I knew we were close.

Our room is now ready for a baby with a bookshelf stuffed with diapers, burp clothes, and tiny socks, and - even better- a beautiful handmade cradle by my Grandpa. // And the boys and my Mom are trying to help induce labor with some unsuccessful foot-rubs. 

 Yesterday, Travis and I went on our last date (possibly ever). First we had sushi, which was amazing and I stuffed myself far beyond my stomach's capacity. (A note: pregnant women can eat lots of sushi- things with cooked shrimp, crab, and eel are my favorite.) Anyway. First sushi.

Then we went to a nearby park to "briskly walk" laps. I started having immediate constant contractions. I timed them and was delighted that they were coming every 5-15 minutes. Irregular, but frequent. Not too painful, but uncomfortable enough that I hoped they were real.

Then we went to see The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I had a contraction every 6-7 minutes for the entire thing.

Two hours of very regular, pretty-close contractions.

This was it. When we got home, I topped off the hospital bag with my contacts-case, phone charger, toothbrush, etc. I was ready to settle down and time contractions for another couple hours (maybe get that newborn carseat finally buckled into the car) and then head to the hospital.

And my contractions stopped.

100%

I went to bed, and only woke up twice (due to semi-painful contractions). My "labor" was over more quickly than it began. I did have a dream in which I delivered my baby, and Travis told me that he'd changed his mind about his name.

Needless to say, I woke up pretty annoyed in general.

The boys both have a hand on my bare stomach at.all.times if possible. // and looking at tiny newborn clothes in comparison to my big-boys' clothes probably made me cry. 

I mean, I am not even due yet. Not for over a week and a half. I should be patient. Babies come when they come.

But I feel like I've been pregnant FOR.EV.ER.

With the boys, I didn't know I was pregnant until I was 9 weeks along (3 false pregnancy tests). So I was already two months in when I "started" being pregnant. Add that to the fact that I delivered Grey and Micah a month early - and this pregnancy is THREE MONTHS LONGER than my last pregnancy. It feels three months longer, too.

You might recall that I had a doctor's appointment yesterday- during which I was hoping to get a membrane strip, go immediately into labor, and probably have a baby by now.

But that didn't happen. I showed up at the doctor's office, and the receptionist raised her eyebrows and asked, "What are you doing here?" before I could even tell her my name. (She knows my name. I've been there a lot lately...)

The doctor was not in. My appointment was not yesterday. 

Let's blame pregnancy brain. 

It's actually this afternoon. I took another walk in the park this morning, hoping to start something before my appointment. I bounced on a yoga ball. I ate a lot of chocolate cake and pizza (that probably starts... something, right?)

And I'm having contractions. Sometimes they're even painful. 

But they're infrequent, irregular, and not really different from the contractions I've been having for the last three months. 

Sigh. I know that I probably won't actually have the baby this week. But man, a girl can hope. 

I told the boys that the baby would come around Easter - so now, every day, Micah starts sentences that begin, "When the baby comes on Easter..."

Man. I want this baby by Easter. 

Is that so much to ask?

My big belly as I try to "shake my baby out," as Grey said. // The new favorite game at our house is playing house, which mostly consists of fighting over who gets to be the pregnant Mom and who has to be the Dad.