Thursday morning I had to be up early: we were getting the INTERNET. Cable guy due to come sometime 7:30am or later. Also, the electricians were coming at 8am to correct some things on the new electrical panels (and sadly move a light in the nearly-done kitchen), and the guy doing our kitchen was coming to finish painting and everything else in preparation for the appliances to come the next day. Phew.
I got The Hottest Computer Scientist in the Universe up and into the shower just as the doorbell rang. Cable guy first. We start trooping around, trying to reach a wall (any wall!) I am shoving boxes as he says, "No let me help you!" We negotiate, wander outside, discuss. Agreeing upon an entry point, the electricians arrive. They want to be paid in advance for the day - mind you they are here mostly to correct work they didn't quite get right the first time. But following up and negotiating afterwards is just beyond me at that point. I keep having to stop and lean against things as the contractions are coming and going. Fine. Here's a check, issued with admonishments as I grip my belly. "This baby is coming any day. I NEED THIS WORK DONE."
The kitchen guy shows up, impatient with the electricians. Patient and friendly with me. The cable guy is finishing his work - he drilled a hole in our 13" brick exterior wall! WTF! and I have to get to the office. My office is A MESS. I cannot leave it like that. I think I have a mug with yesterday's yogurt dregs on my desk. Our house is in terrible shape too, the stacks of boxes are literally no LESS than 5' high, sometimes 7' or 8', and there is but a narrow path from the front door to the bedroom, on to the bathroom, on to the kitchen. My huge self can barely get through without brushing against the stacks. I can't touch any walls due to the boxes obstructing them. But there's pretty much nothing I can do about it. My office I can at least make some headway on.
THCSITU leaves for work, "Are you sure you are OK?" Yes, yes I assure him. I'll let you know if anything.
OK, everything's as squared away as I can make it. I go to get dressed and leave for work. When it hits: bloody show. Diarrhea.
Oh. Crap. Ohcrap. Ohcrap.
Leaving the bathroom I feel a little lightheaded. Not dangerously so, just the kind when you are in a little bit of shock. "Um, guys?" I call, leaning into the kitchen. "This baby might be here *very* soon. FYI." They respond cheerfully, toothily. Yeah, yeah we are gonna finish this right up today! they say. Aha. They say that every time. Here's hoping that lit a fire under them. Sigh.
I start tracking the contractions. They are 10 min apart on the dot. I think. I am nervous and confused. I get dressed, purse ready, coat on, and call the midwives. Report back. The nurse responds pleasantly, "Sounds like things are moving!" My question is, can I please go to work? Our class provided strict instructions that you should spend early labour RESTING - but I could still have a few days of early labor ahead of me, right? She says, "If you feel like going to work, go to work."
So I set out. I text THCSITU simply "Contractions marked with X" and text him an X every time they hit. Easy way to see the times - and as they get more painful I don't have the hassle of composing a message, just the "X". They are ten minutes apart on the dot, all the way into the city and back around out to work. I think it took 30 min to walk the 3 blocks from the train to the office. THCSITU gets a little worried, I text some reassurance and wait to confer with my suegra. After she and I talked, I let my dad and sister know what was going on.
I sent my boss an email, "I might not be here tomorrow. We should perhaps meet today." It turns out a new HR lady had just started that day. So she got email too: "I might not be in tomorrow, if there's paperwork to be done I gotta do it today."
My boss and I met for an hour around 2 or 3 pm. The contractions were so strong by that point I couldn't talk through them - I had to stop and regain focus again after they passed.
But by the end of the day, they were way more mild! I felt like such an idiot. Responding to email about maternity leave paperwork, I said, "Well, maybe I was wrong." As my boss wished me all sorts of good luck on her way out, I sheepishly said, "I don't know what's going on, I might be here tomorrow after all!"
My dad called, worried that if he didn't pick me up right now we'd be stuck in rush hour traffic. I reassured him that I could take the train just fine.
I had my regularly scheduled weekly midwife visit that night. They'd said if I didn't go into labor, show up to the appointment. So we went. THCSITU was running late, I think. By the time we got there, the contractions were totally gone. The apprentice midwife wrapped up the appointment with the following statement: "If you went into labor tonight, I'd have to write about you in a book. You aren't having a baby today."
THCSITU thought I was blowing the day out of proportion. Of course, he hadn't seen me have any of that day's contractions.
It was St. Patrick's Day. We went to my dad's to say Hi before he and some friends went on a (tame) bar crawl. Sitting there, kvetching about how these teaser contractions are coming and going - they start again. 3 guys in their 50s, very "Are you OK? Are you sure??" I laugh it off - the midwife said I'm not having a baby today. How long are these things going to keep doing this?!? I get up and get my own tea. We'll be fine.
We went to bed sometime after 11, probably before 1:30am.
Which is good because I woke up at 2:30 am. This was it.