"You aren't the only adult in this house you know," says Fran, taking charge of some of the Easter prep. In a good way. I was about to start hiding empty eggs by accident.
We settled into bed just before midnight, kid easter baskets perfectly arranged and eggs neatly labelled with initials (we've found this stops the running around like crazypeople trying to outdo each other issue) and hidden:
At which point I start contracting every 5 minutes, like clockwork, and they're all big and pressurey. But not getting worse or closer together, so I decide to go to sleep. Semi-sucessful. I was, after all, REALLY freaking tired.
Every 5 minutes all through the morning egg-finding festivities.
We had planned to go to MIL's for the afternoon, to let the kids get spoiled even more and to have dinner. But I really, really didn't want to leave the house. I figured even if I wasn't in BIG BAD RIGHT NOW labor, I was in labor of some sort. We moved the gathering to our house, because again, not in BIG BAD RIGHT NOW labor. Contractions started showing up every 3 minutes instead of every 5. The in-laws showed up.
My first clue that I was not actually in labor should probably have been that I continued to contract while they were around. Contract, and look like a tired, grumpy hobbit:
Eventually they left, I called L(MW), and we started filling the pool. I was still not convinced I was in BIG BAD LABOR. Even though I was all spacey and the contractions were 3 minutes apart and they hurt. Somehow I knew to hedge my bets. I told the kids the new baby might decide to come today, but if not, we'd have a hot tub party in my bedroom.
Yeah, when L showed up I was all of 3cm with a slightly malpositioned baby. I continued to contract but things slowly let off until by 8 or so it was pretty clear nothing was going to happen after all.
HOT TUB PARTAY!!!!!
So the kids had a great time in the pool. After they got out, I floated around for a little while and then tucked myself in to bed and slept like a ROCK.
Woke up all sick and irritable. Of course.
So that all pretty much sucked. I've done this pregnancy and birth thing before. I even help women decide when they're in labor. I'm reminded that I don't know shit. I also have been reminded by several birth professional type friends that not only am I not the first person to ever pull a complete fakeout, several of them have done it. Must be yet another profession-related curse. You'd think that being out of practice for 8 months would make me immune, but apparently if you conceive while you've been acting as a midwife you get the full-force curse.
We followed Easter up by going the next day to a nice meeting at L's for birth professionals, where I got to hear a pelvic floor specialist talk. Which was great until the van wouldn't start.
L rocks, she let me borrow her car so I wasn't stranded an hour and a half from home. And fed us. And essentially kept me from turning into a complete sobbing mess. We left the van at their mechanic and drove home just 6 hours after we had intended to leave.
Today, we're $1000 (ok, $1052) lighter, with a new instrument cluster and in-dash computer. The lights no longer blink. I'm assured that the van will reliably start from here on out. Or at least, if it doesn't, it won't be for the same reason it hasn't started in the past. I was supposed to stop by the Dodge dealership on the way home and get the new gauges calibrated properly, but even though I made an appointment with the dealership, apparently the guy who knows how to do that particular job wasn't available. THANKS. I thought that was why I made the appointment, to avoid exactly this brand of bullshit? So back to Bremerton tomorrow.
All of this is not the fault of the mechanic we used, who seriously undercharged us for the amount of time and effort he spent on our van and was pleasant to work with. He doesn't have a website of his own, but here's a listing: Mac 'N Jack's Island Svc. Not that I'm going to drive a lot of business on Bainbridge, but it can't hurt to put a plug in when you have a particularly good experience with someone.
Even though (ouch) $1052. Ouch.
Ouch.
Ouch.
(Sucking it up...OUCH...Sucking it up...)
