Saturday THCSITU spent most of the day at the new house, waiting for our bed to be delivered and finishing the painting in our room. Sunday I left him packing the computer equipment/desk and went to buy sheets for our grown-up sized bed so we could have someplace to sleep that night. Our twin bed (yes, you read that right) was going back that night to the mother-in-law's house from whence it came.
At the end of Sunday, the guys left to start the unloading and left me and THCSITU's mom to finish the cleanup of the apt and drive the last carload of stuff away. She did all the real work, I just participated in a few of the activities. Right before leaving, I stopped to use the bathroom. The 15 minute drive to our new house would otherwise be too much for a 9-months-pregnant person's bladder.
"Creo que este bebe va a venir en unos dias," I told her."No me digas," she groaned."Bueno, hoy no pero... puedes ver que me salió si quieres."
*explicit content warning* if you are prone to being grossed out, quit reading now.
So with my pants around my knees I showed her. I knew it was the mucous plug that had started disintegrating. Yep, she agreed, but maybe I still had a week to go. Since there was no blood, it was certainly early in the process.
*end of explicit content*
We agreed there was no need to worry THCSITU about it yet - it had been a very long couple of days and no baby was showing up that night anyhow.
When we got to the new house... my god. The boxes were piled between 5 and 7 feet high. I arranged the bedroom as best I could as everyone else unloaded that car. My purse, the backpack of vital electronics, clothes, etc. One thing was missing: the backpack I'd started as the "hospital bag." I hunted around and asked about it. No one could tell me if they'd unloaded it or where they'd put it.
As everyone was leaving, around 11 or midnight, I asked THCSITU again.
"We gotta find that bag," I said sort of teasingly (I hoped).
"We will," he replied. "I mean, you're not having a baby tonight."
His mom and I tried not to look at each other as we laughed it off. Right, not tonight...
Around 3 or 4, the contractions started. I was at 38 weeks that day. I remember the first one, realizing what it must be. But even in the moment I knew it was false labor. I hadn't felt any up till that point. I sort of monitored them for a while and then tried not to panic: we didn't even have a frigerator or kitchen sink. We could NOT have this baby yet!!