(no subject)
So for the majority of my pregnancy, I have felt almost exactly equal parts fear and excitement about becoming a mother. (With the exception of the months where I felt equal parts fear, excitement, and total misery - thanks, hyperemesis gravidarum.) There is so much that will change - our lives will never be the same. But gradually, over the last few months, as the person growing inside me shows more and more signs of life and autonomy (for example: her completely autonomous decision to stick her feet in my ribs and keep them there), excitement and wonder have been winning over.
And then came Tuesday - and its early contractions.
I'm fine - I spent the morning at Labor & Delivery being ruled out for preterm labor. They put me on the baby monitor (baby's heart rate is excellent), checked me out for various infections which could cause contractions or put me at risk (all negative), checked out my cervix (long and closed, not close to delivery), etc. They're not sure about the ultimate cause, although the best guess is the dehydration I've been struggling with - that my uterus was cramping up like any muscle can do when dehydrated. There's also some minor creepy possibility that my TENS unit might have set something off, as that was the only change in my routine within the last 24 hours; my doctor says it's not well-studied, and so the best bet is to lay off it for a while. (Sad, because it was one of the things that helped the most with my hardcore back pain. Although at least now I won't wonder if I'm turning my baby into Frankenstein's monster.)
What was most surprising about all of this: I felt rather guiltily excited about it all. I mean, I knew it was terrible - it would have been really disastrous if my baby had been born at 30 weeks instead of being fully developed, healthy, able to use her lungs and everything. I knew all of that, and I am immensely relieved that she was not born and is still happily cooking away in my belly. But all the same: I was excited to meet her. I was excited to meet my daughter.
I'm not really so afraid anymore. Which is not to say that I am unaware of how hard it will be. It's going to be the hardest thing we've ever done in our lives. I just know that the joy will outweigh the fear. I am genuinely looking forward to August.
And then came Tuesday - and its early contractions.
I'm fine - I spent the morning at Labor & Delivery being ruled out for preterm labor. They put me on the baby monitor (baby's heart rate is excellent), checked me out for various infections which could cause contractions or put me at risk (all negative), checked out my cervix (long and closed, not close to delivery), etc. They're not sure about the ultimate cause, although the best guess is the dehydration I've been struggling with - that my uterus was cramping up like any muscle can do when dehydrated. There's also some minor creepy possibility that my TENS unit might have set something off, as that was the only change in my routine within the last 24 hours; my doctor says it's not well-studied, and so the best bet is to lay off it for a while. (Sad, because it was one of the things that helped the most with my hardcore back pain. Although at least now I won't wonder if I'm turning my baby into Frankenstein's monster.)
What was most surprising about all of this: I felt rather guiltily excited about it all. I mean, I knew it was terrible - it would have been really disastrous if my baby had been born at 30 weeks instead of being fully developed, healthy, able to use her lungs and everything. I knew all of that, and I am immensely relieved that she was not born and is still happily cooking away in my belly. But all the same: I was excited to meet her. I was excited to meet my daughter.
I'm not really so afraid anymore. Which is not to say that I am unaware of how hard it will be. It's going to be the hardest thing we've ever done in our lives. I just know that the joy will outweigh the fear. I am genuinely looking forward to August.