On Monday I had an awkward moment. After teaching 5th graders, there was one lil’ boy I wanted to address personally, so I pulled him aside for a 1:1. While informing him that I was disappointed in his behavior, but knew he was capable of making better choices which I would look to see him do by the day’s end, I felt like I had peed my britches. I frantically ran for the bathroom & scared a beloved student of mine.
Was incontinence the new addition to my life? I fretted. Majorly. Then, I started wondering if this “sensation” was amniotic fluid. I dismissed that thought because I am easily excitable and was not interested in thinking it was “go” time for Lucy Joy when it was only a falsie.
This discomfort continued through Tuesday. I shared it with my mother. She freaked out. She was certain my water broke & was able to convince me that I needed to go to the hospital (after calling four times).
Let’s talk about about fret being multiplied by 8907796547. First, we had no labor bag prepared. If you are privy to the status of my home as my husband finalizes the remodeling project on our bathroom (which looks fantastic), then you might be more understanding as to why I haven’t packed. That fact, coupled with a slight bit of denial, kept the labor bag low on the priority list. Second, I didn’t feel ready. No, 40 weeks of a baby brewing in my uterus had not prepared me to accept that it was time to release it.
After shoving our lives in to bags (4 total), we traveled to the hospital. After 2.5 hours of testing & monitoring, all was well. There was a faint leakage of my amniotic fluid, but my fluid levels were quite healthy. The best part of the visit was the ultra-sound to detect my fluid levels. Why? Because we got to see Lucy! The last time we saw her in action was @ 19 weeks. Twenty weeks later, she’s still stubborn. She refrained from sharing a frontal view of her face, but she compensated by shoving her foot in her mouth, yawning, and sticking out her tongue. I loved it & so did the technician–she couldn’t stop narrating her every move.
Tomorrow marks 40 weeks & day #2 of maternity leave. The birth plan is complete, our bags are (finally) packed, and my mom comes in to town.