This past Wednesday I started getting regular Braxton Hicks contractions. They were coming with such frequency that I started to time them. Over several hours, I was having them every two to eight minutes apart. Finally, because they were coming so often, I decided to see the doctor. Luckily, I was in no danger of going into labor prematurely. My cervix was completely closed. But it certainly felt like a sign of what's to come.
My body is changing in other ways too. Suddenly my face is breaking out a bit on my chin. And I woke up the other day to what felt like a clogged milk duct. I've also been feeling a shift in my mood. I'm feeling anxious and agitated. The other night, as I was putting the girls to bed, I asked Nelson to come upstairs for the final "tuck-in" and "lights-out." Several minutes later, I had to ask him again. When he arrived at the top of the steps, I asked him in frustration, "Why can't you just do everything I want right away?" After I said it, I realized how irrational I sounded. Nevertheless, it didn't change my feelings. He should do everything I want right away. I'm carrying his child after all.
My irrational feelings reminded me of how I felt when I was in labor with Elise. Shortly after the doctor broke my water, I started to have painful contractions. I looked over at Nelson just sitting next to me contentedly. I stared at him with devil-laser vision and said, "You just sit there like nothing's happening, when, in fact, this is all your fault." Again, I realize how irrational this sounds, but at the time, I really meant it.
Nelson is such a good husband. Take for instance this afternoon. He was away for three days flying. He was scheduled to be home tomorrow, but instead, he waltzed through the door shortly after lunch today. Usually he calls on his way home, but he decided to surprise us. Sweet? Normally, unless you are 36 weeks pregnant and want everything to be planned in advance. So instead of being grateful for his early arrival, I felt annoyed. He, like always, gracefully ignored my bad behavior.
I feel like such a cliché to be that hormonal pregnant wife who blames my husband for getting me into this uncomfortable state. Of course, I know it's not really Nelson's fault that I'm feeling, not only, uncomfortable, but also extremely anxious over what's to come on delivery day. Still, if he decides to look at me with his cute smile and sit contentedly by my side when I'm in labor, I'll have no choice but to yell at him. After all, he is the one who got me into all of this.