I have mentioned my midwife and the office and sung their praises to the heavens. I know that everyone in that practice has my best interests at heart. That said, my last appointment was really frustrating.
Bryn and I wanted to get pregnant before I tried to find a job. I've explained this before. We cut it really close to the beginning of my school year with this pregnancy, though. My due date is the Thursday before classes start on Tuesday. This upset my midwife. She wants me to think about deferring for a semester.
I would love to defer for a semester. However, it's not an option. We would lose my loans and we would lose our home. Those things cannot happen. I must remain a "full-time" graduate student in order to keep my money and my home. I also have a thesis I must work on to stay on track. And quite frankly, I want to get the hell out of Burlington and UVM as soon as possible. Martha didn't seem to get it. She just kept pushing for 12 weeks of bonding.
I want that more than anything in the world, but it's not going to happen. I will be wearing the baby to class, nursing in class, reading and writing with the babe in my arms. I know this. I have to do this - it's not an option. Bryn is stressed out enough and didn't need to hear any of this. He confided to wanting to throw pillows at Martha through most of the meeting; she just didn't seem to be hearing what we were telling her. How do you not hear: homeless and penniless with an infant and 7 year old if we take your advice? There was very little compassion for our situation, just insinuation that I was being selfish and unrealistic.
Bryn has been pretty stressed out anyway. Today was his last day of work - his contract was not renewed and he has only received one call back about a job in the last three weeks. His doctor is concerned about his blood pressure. We have to go to Canada on Sunday to settle his father's estate. Arguing with the midwife was not something we needed to add to his To Do list. His BP yesterday was 162/112. Needless to say, I didn't want to add to his aggravation.
When we went to bed last night, I had to spend a little too much time in the bathroom. After four trips to the bathroom, unbearable cramping, and completely voided bowels, I curled up in the recliner for a couple hours of sleep. I got one. Braxton-Hicks contractions suck. From 2am-7am, I was in a lot of pain. I kept denying that they were contractions. They were irregular. They were weirdly timed. They just felt "off". It was easier to tell myself I'd had some bad brisket for lunch.
Bryn felt sorry for me and I just mumbled that I loved him and sent him to work. I crawled back into bed praying that the contractions wouldn't start again. Alex crawled into bed with me at about 10 and watched Sesame Street for an hour before asking for breakfast. So I got 2 hours of sleep.
After talking to the nurse at the midwife's, who told me my iron was low and I need to supplement, she confirmed that I'd been having contractions. Yes, the voiding of the bowels is normal. The nausea that accompanies the contractions is normal. Why don't I remember this?
When Bryn got home from work I told him that they were contractions and he was upset that I had kept that information from him. He appreciated that I let him sleep and that I didn't want to stress him out any more than he already was; but if I was scared and in pain he didn't want me to be alone. All I could think about while I was in pain was that he'd had a dream about me going into labor before the Canada trip and he was all stressed out the next day.
Anyway, Thursday sucked - and I'm including through 7am Friday morning because I hadn't slept yet.
It's over now. And I am grateful.