the art of unproductivity

New Sunday tradition at the Lo house: False Labor! It really is a fantastic way to spend one's time, highly recommended. At least this time I wasn't dumb enough to go to the hospital only to be sent home. And I ate my protein. There were contractions, all day, strong enough to be timed. But they were erratic. Nervewracking. And essentially pointless.

I'll admit that I am hitting the wall as far as wanting this kid out of me. I realize that I still have a good 2 1/2 weeks until the actual due date, so my impatience isn't fully warranted. The more reasonable side of me acknowledges, too, that I should be savoring these last few moments of only having one child to look after, as opposed to one child and a newborn. Even more whining, even less sleep. BUT. Everything is bulky, sore, uncomfortable. I can no longer do my super-hero tricks. It's exasperating to drop something on the floor, but downright insurmountable to drop a favorite shirt in the dark alleyway between the washing machine and the water heater. I mean, are you kidding me?

False labor is especially frustrating to me because it inspires me to do the exact opposite of what is smart, productive, or zen. Instead of focusing on other things around me to make time progress at a reasonable rate, instead of accepting that true labor will come when it's time, I focus completely on the labor, forgo all normal activity. The hours and minutes become an oozing puddle of slime. K.Lo amps up the whine factor, J.Lo and I become nervous wrecks. It is a most unfortunate way to spend the weekend.

Today I vow to:

run 2 loads of laundry

dust the living room

finish cleaning the bathroom

watch Desperate Housewives, decide whether it will make the cut

take Bug for a walk

or something to that effect.

May I only continue to be so wise.

dear october,

If there were any year I would love for you to break your streak of general blah-ness, it would be this one. I don't always feel fair in saying that luck-wise, October is my worst month, because it does contain several friend and family birthdays, along with J.Lo's, and I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the fun in those celebrations. Not to mention Halloween! And it's fall, and the weather finally cools off from the oppressive heat of summer. So there are lots of good things, really, about you, October, it's just maybe cosmically? for me, I have great luck and high energy in the spring, and a general feeling of ickiness coupled with some bad luck in the fall, particularly October.

But maybe it's all a matter of perspective.

As far as Baby N.Lo, yesterday was still September, but I'm still exhausted from it. What I have dreaded more than anything with labor is the False Alarm, i.e. going to the hospital and being sent home. I mean, I know it happens all the time, and you live, and you have lost little, other than time, the emotional energy of thinking you're having a baby, and perhaps some pride. It is not, in the end, really a big deal. But here's what happened:

All morning yesterday, beginning early, like before the dawn, I was having contractions. Baby N.Lo is scheduled to arrive in about 3 1/2 weeks, so hello... kind of unexpected. And actually, he would be fine, if born so early--"they" say that at about 37 weeks, lung capacity is adequate for delivery, and your baby is still considered full-term. We're just a tiny bit outside of that, so I imagine (and hope) we'd be all good. Anyway, back to contractions: 10 minutes apart, then 8, then 4. When I had K.Lo, I had in my head just what I knew from books and classes and such: Go to the hospital when contractions are less than 5 minutes apart, consistently, and intense enough that you are unable to walk or talk during them. The intensity part just never happened, but the timing was there, I was a day past my due date, and so we went, and K.Lo was born.

This time, the intensity was there, as was the timing--four two straight hours, I recorded 4 minutes apart. And so I threw some more things in my bag, J.Lo loaded it all up in the car, left K.Lo with her grandparents, and off we went to the hospital.

Another thing you read/hear about re: labor is that you probably shouldn't eat a lot. I wasn't very hungry anyway, but I figured, okay, I'll have it a little bit of food, and it will be what I like... right? Had 2 donuts in the morning and later some potato chips. If only I had a camera to capture the look on my nurse's face. I totally knew it sounded bad, but what can you do. Anyway, after the oh-so-lovely pelvic exam, in which it was determined that I was 2cm dilated and 50% effaced, it was also determined I was possibly... hungry. So they gave me a microwave meal of chicken and stuffing and mashed potatoes, as well as a sugary drink, oj mixed with Sierra Mist.

Meanwhile, I am thinking if I am sent home because these contractions are really hunger pains, I will never live it down.

But, they were not. After eating the meal, my contractions did space out, but holy hell, they were strong. I don't remember them being that strong the last time until well after my water was broken. Ultimately, though, they must have been unproductive, because an hour later, there was no change, i.e. Baby N.Lo was not ready, and there was no point in staying at the hospital. They gave me a sleeping pill and sent me on my way--the idea being that I needed rest, and if it were true labor, it would continue regardless of the sleeping pill.

I guess, as odd as it seems to me, it was false labor. I feel tired, queasy, and weird, with no real contractions. I don't particularly feel disappointed that we didn't have the baby yesterday, as it's early, and at this point I'm not really in a hurry. He will be ready when he's ready. The nurse did say, though I take it subjectively, that she didn't see me making it to my due date, but we will see.

I guess I just feel a little like I've been through the wringer. Another WTF moment, if you will. Babies are weird, y'all. The beginning of a life is just as unpredictable as the end. It's just the Waiting and the Wondering that will get you.

So anyway, October. This year, maybe you could ease up on your usual antics? September 30th did not bode particularly well, although I suppose it just was what it was. In the meantime, if you could go ahead and arrange a Clear Sign that it's time to go to the hospital, that would be great. Rather than this whole vague contraction business--maybe some water breaking?? It would really make things a lot easier.

xoxo,
pensive pen