- Had contractions 5-15 minutes apart
- Contractions lasted for seven hours
- They were not regular at all
- Pain was all over my belly
- Felt like my belly was being squeezed by iron bands
- It was hard to tell when they were stopping and starting
Crazy, right? Something is definitely happening in there — it just hasn’t developed into the something (LABOUR) yet.
Yesterday was intense. I had gotten my pre-baby eyebrow wax and pedicure early in the afternoon (chose a lovely shade of blue polish, to welcome my boy). I had been feeling crampy all morning, but once I got out of the salon, it was Contraction City, population: me!
I tried not to get too excited, and continued on with my afternoon. I went to the mall, bought gifts for an upcoming baby shower and a wedding (both of which I won’t be able to attend, sadly, because they’re out of town). I wandered through stores. I navigated the vastness of Wal-Mart in search of a spray bottle for my cloth wipes.
All the while, I was feeling contractions! I wasn’t timing them, because (A) I can barely walk and chew gum, and (B) they weren’t hurting enough that I was concerned. I just kept strolling around, and was delighted that I still felt them even when driving. It was almost uncomfortable to drive, at some points, because of the tightening.
I got down to business after picking Darling Husband up from work that evening. I was still feeling them, so it became his job to time them.
We remembered “4-1-1”
from our birthing class
— that contractions had to be four minutes apart, lasting at least one minute each, for at least an hour, before you come to the hospital. So if you began a contraction at 5 p.m., it would need to last until 5:01 p.m., and your next one would need to begin at 5:05 p.m. — four minutes after the last one ended, but actually five minutes after it began.
We had no idea it would be so HARD to time them! I think this is a definite sign I was not in real labour. The contractions were so ripple-y — as in it was hard to say for sure when one was stopping, and when one was starting — that we both kept getting confused on what we were timing.
Darling Husband kept blindly activating the stopwatch on my BlackBerry, and then we’d both be clueless as to what we were timing — the length of a contraction, or the distance between them. Arrrrgh!
But before we spent too much time arguing over how they were supposed to be timed, and who should be telling who what numbers, they stopped. Just … stopped.
I paced around the condo for a while, trying to get them going again, and then dragged Darling Husband and Little Dog on yet another walk
. But all I got was horrible back pain — the contractions never came back.
False labour? Please stop screwing with me!