Excitement

I'm ready for pregnancy to be boring again. Julie has been feeling cramps since Friday, not in waves, but a consistent ache. I made her call the nurse line yesterday, and of course they told us to come in. If you're pregnant and you call the nurse line, they tell you to come in.

"I stubbed my toe."

"Better come in."

"I sneezed."

"We'd like you to be seen."

"My dog looked at me funny."

"We should check that out right away."

Before I continue, I'll reveal now that everything is fine. No need to scroll early to the end of the post.

The nurse at the desk asked us, "Are you here to be induced?"

I replied, "Holy eff, I hope not."

They put Julie in a bed and put two doinkers on her belly, one to detect contractions and the other to measure whether our baby was telling the truth. Let me tell you: we're giving birth to a total liar, because that thing was all over the place.

Turns out Julie was having minor contractions. Awesome! Just what you want ten weeks early. Her cervix was closed, though, so the baby was still locked inside. I picture those metal space ship doors in Star Wars, the round ones that open from the middle out. Cervix doors, I believe Darth Vader calls them. Anyway, Julie's cervix door was closed, and that made us happy.

They gave her a shot to quell the contractions, but it didn't work. And the contractions were very small, by the way, pretty much unnoticeable, not like "MOTHER OF GOD, IT'S ANOTHER ONE" or anything like that. But still, contractions can trigger the cervix door much like Han Solo's blaster or the Force, so they're cause for minor concern.

Bottom line, the doctor said Julie shouldn't go into work until she's checked out again at her already scheduled appointment on Friday. She offered to write Julie a note, but Julie declined, citing the flexibility and understanding of her employer. Always watchful for pregnant scheming, however, I insisted on the note.

It says:

"Julie [boring stuff omitted] cannot work until further evaluated on 9/12/08."

See, without this note, Julie would've devised some excuse to go to work. She would've said, "Well, the doctor didn't say I couldn't go to work," even though she clearly did. So the note wasn't for Julie's boss, but for the boss who lives in Julie's brain.

People tell me this whole ordeal was Braxton Hicks, or false contractions. What the hell? That's seriously what they call it? Wasn't Braxton Hicks an American Idol contestant a few years back?

Randy: "It was kinda pitchy, dog. But it was ah-ight."

Paula, sobbing: "You are a shooting star from heaven, and I have a tingly feeling in my soul. You put America into labor tonight."

Simon: "It was all rather forgettable, if I'm being honest. It reminded me of a cheap cruise ship karaoke version of real contractions. I don't think you're ready for this cohm-petition."

So yes, I will update here as things hopefully do not develop further. The hospital visit, by the way, took over five hours. I thought it would just be a quick RN hand on the stomach and a "Well aren't you two cute for coming in." Oh well.