We’ve had an unusually rainy winter. The rain has created a lovely slippery moss-like consistency on our back porch flagstones. How do I know it was slippery? First hand experience, that’s how.
Last Monday, I went out the back door to let out the dog. He scampered into the yard and I waddled strolled toward the unexposed portion of the deck. My right foot went down the step, but I got no traction. In a split second, my tuckus met flagstone and my back hit step. I fell like Charlie Brown (without the dramatic run up). My first concern was Little B. The good news is that I fell completely backwards and the belly was untouched. The bad news is that flagstone is pretty unforgiving with absolutely no give. Luckily, my butt has grown like the state fair – bigger and better each trimester – so I had some pretty good padding to soften the blow.
I was able to get up and went back into the house to let Mr. X know what had happened. Other than a sore back, I felt fine and I could feel Little B doing his wiggle thing. But I knew that this had to be reported to the doctor. Sure enough, the instructions were to head to labor and delivery for monitoring. Five hours later, four of which were spent being monitored and ultrasounded, we were sent home with the knowledge that Little B was just fine.
We did manage to have a good dry run for the hospital check-in. Mr. X learned the valuable lesson of what he wants to bring with him and I got a better idea of how the monitoring worked (for example, it’s ok that the nurse doesn’t come in to look at the print out – she has a little monitor at the station). We became intimately familiar with all of the various beeps and noises.
We also learned that I was 80% effaced and still 1 cm. Unfortunately, either the nurse had very short fingers or my cervix was playing hide and go seek because it felt like she was digging a tunnel to China to assess me.
Since I am now 39 weeks, we are officially on Labor Watch. I am surprisingly not anxious about this. Every one else, though, is going a little stir crazy. I think it has something to do with the whole “she can blow at any minute!” aspect of the situation. Apparently, I’ve become a little volcano. Unfortunately for them, Mr. X and I are both of the opinion that Little B will be a little tardy in his entrance, so we find all of this talk rather amusing. I’m still resisting the idea of a betting pool on his arrival date, but we can always use the money.
image: lunita lu