Week 22, Day 7 (Squeezums bejeezums)

I wish the books would explain Braxton Hicks contractions a bit more clearly. Only one reference manual stated that "they don't hurt", but none of them come close to preparing a woman for the weird sensation when she experiences it for the first time.

If you haven't been thus *blessed*, let me attempt to do so.

Imagine someone has mysteriously tied a string around the neck of your cervix, and as they slowly but steadily tug downwards, someone is standing behind you with a firm but painless grip, and they are compressing your uterus down and inwards.

Release, then repeat. Ad nauseum.

It's not entirely fair to dismiss it as pain free. Well, technically I suppose it is, but it's NOT very bloody comfortable!

Now imagine you get BH contractions only for the second time on a night when a little bit of spotting takes place. Mmmmmmmm funnnnn!

Two things helped keep me calm and NOT running to the phone to call the midwife:

The first was Tadpole kicking vigourously in protest at the BH (stands for Bloody Horrible, if you ask me, which of course you didn't) contractions, proving that he's absolutely fine and it's business as usual as far as he's concerned.

The other was Wayne's careful perusal of all available subject matter, and his considered and calm opinion that it would be a bit premature (excuse that... I really couldn't think of a better word!) to go getting all aerigated over one spot. One swallow does not make a summer (or a Linda Lovelace, for that matter).

So we decided to maintain a careful watch, and that I would take it easy for the next day or so. Any further 'show' and no more pissing around, straight off to the hospital for us.

Well we're lucky for many reasons that the show was a one-off. The first, of course, is blindingly obvious. The second was that unbeknownst to us, Chch Womens decided to have a major plumbing disaster and potty trips are being restricted, and only allowed to flush every third 'deposit'.

One two three, all together now.... EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

Now there are some (and you know who you are, MOTHER!) who think I should be totally supine for as much of the next 17 weeks as possible. Before anyone else starts in on that argument, have you considered how barkingly mad I will go if I have to stop work and do nothing but rest? How much do you think I can contemplate my navel before I become entranced with its progress from an innie to an outie, start drooling out my ears and knitting with only one needle?

Does this child need a complete lunatic for a mother? And how likely is it that if I sit there festering about whether or not my kid is going to make it to full term, that we'll set up a self-fulfilling prophecy that makes him come early just to get some respite from the nervous wreck he's inhabiting?

Nope - for reasons of sanity, business and let's not forget FOOD, I'll work smarter but not harder. Just understand when you ring at 2pm and get the answerphone that I'm having a three hour long lunchbreak, at least half of which I'm spending sleeping.

Btw, no sign of the BH contractions today, much to my delight. Hope the wretched things stay away.

And now for something completely different to end things on...

Ever listened to Simon & Garfunkel's "Sound of Silence" and wondered if waaaay back in the 60's they were predicting the internet? Most of the song applies well to this fancy, but in particular consider these two lines:
"People talking without speaking.
People listening without hearing."

Does that sum up internet communication or what? Cool eh :-)