You knew this was coming

This pregnancy has progressed with nary a complication up to this point, which of course means I was due to be totally screwed over by the universe any minute. Today I received a message from the universe, priority mail. I even had to sign for it.

When Jack woke up (that would be at 5:50 a.m. for anyone wondering) I stumbled into his room to help him to the bathroom and threw myself back into bed to wait for him to announce he was done. I felt a little sore, which was odd, and realized the soreness was actually cramping. In the cervix/uterus/general pregnancy area. Huh. Weird.

After I had a few more cramping sensations, I poked Josh and asked him to get me some water. I drank it and started looking at the clock. The cramping was coming every five minutes. Huh. Weird.

I had an OB appointment on the books for 10:15 a.m. so instead of calling and having them send me to triage, I decided to wait it out. I laid on my left side and drank more water than I think I have this entire pregnancy put together and made Josh stay home from work and handle the morning routine with the kids.

Figuring I should probably take a shower and shave my legs, you know, since I hadn't showered yesterday, I managed to get that out of the way with little fuss. But the cramping, it continued. Continued through me making Jack's lunch and getting everyone's clothes laid out and tying everyone's shoes. I tried to tell Josh he could tie his own shoes, especially since they were Velcro, but he ignored me and held his foot up anyway.

After three hours of the every-five-minutes cramps, I called the OB's office to see if I could come early and they said I was the next contestant on the Price is Right. (Get it? Price is Right - come on down? No? Moving on.)

My OB took a look at my cervix and told me what I already knew: It was closed and the stitch was fine, but I would need to go downstairs for monitoring just to be safe. I sighed and tried to get out of it, but duty called. I figured it would be a quick one-hour trip and I would be on my way home.

Except they hooked me up to the contraction monitor and lookie-loo, those cramps were really real-live contractions. And they were indeed coming fast and furious, like every four minutes. Huh. Weird.

The midwife helping out in triage stuck her head in the curtain and told me I just bought myself a 24-hour stay. Nooooooooo! Not the perinatal surveillance unit! I know how this works: first they admit you for "just a night" and the next thing you know, you're confined for three weeks.

The resident conferred with my high-risk doctor and he said he wanted to get a pair of steroid shots in me because I have a cerclage and am only 31 weeks and am contracting. So after they sent me to my room, they shot me in the ass with a needle. And those steroid shots don't feel like a bunny's velvety nose sniffing you either. It feels like someone is trying to jam a jagged tree limb in one side of your ass and out through your stomach.

So here I sit, randomly contracting all the live long day (and night). But you know what would stop the contractions? If all my readers went and voted for me in the Best Stay-At-Home Mommy Blog category at TheBump.com! (For shame, I use my unborn child to guilt you all into voting for me. I am above nothing.) You can click here to vote!