Well, last week I randomly got on Google+, and really, who does that anymore? I think I got an email from them or something that prompted me. So I started finagling around with my photos on there, and there is an entire album of 245 pictures attached to this blog... so 5 years of photos that I've posted here, for you lovely beings, not for the entire google+ world.
So I made the album private. Then I come here to blog and all of my photos are negative signs. I couldn't fix it for the life of me, so I had my friend David fix it a few days later. It then sent an email to a bunch of people saying "Look at this album," which I didn't really want to happen, but oh well.
In the meantime, I even went to wordpress to make a new blog. I hated it. I think I've done it before too - wordpress, tumblr. Several times I'm sure. But I love familiarity and comfort, so I'm sticking with you, blogger, even though at every turn of my life I have started a new blog.
We had Tyler's "birthday" party on Saturday night, but it was mostly a "watch the cards game" party. More low key, which was fine. Not our typical kegger.
Starting last Monday I was noticing more intense Braxton Hicks. I think I mentioned it on here. Well, by Saturday night, I was on the couch nearly the whole night during the party, very uncomfortable and on the verge of tears a lot. Sunday morning I sang, and right before I went up to sing my friend came and asked how I was doing, to which I responded by crying. So I missed the first song, which was fine. I didn't feel like singing in the first place because I was in some pain. I feel weird calling it pain - it's a dull ache in my hips and low back, and then the sharp feeling like someone is sticking their finger in a wound, but it's just a baby limb in my hip nerves or something.
By Sunday afternoon, Tyler made me call my midwife. I was slightly frustrated because she said I should go to the chiropractor. I explained to her that the chiropractor told me to stop coming because it was making me worse. Of course, she can't know how I'm feeling or how "bad" it is unless she felt it herself. Or, like those freaking rating systems - "On a scale of 1-10, how bad does it hurt?" people should stop doing that, because everyone says a different number. I freaking hate it and want to punch people when they do that. Thankfully, she didn't do that. She is a very sweet woman. And she did say, "Well, these sound like more than b&h so I don't want to act like it's nothing."
She suggested a bath. I hate baths. They're disgusting. I'd bathe in a hotel before I'd bathe in our bathtub. All I can picture is the woman we bought the house from bathing with her cats. And there were stains we could not get out of the bathtub, so no. No bath for Shannon. She also suggested a glass of wine, which I savored and enjoyed and loved. Ah. Gnarly Head. It's our favorite. It helped, but I still did not sleep well last night, and I woke myself up a few times moaning... so I did get some sleep actually, but you know. After breakfast this morning, I went back to bed and slept so well. Then I went to Cheryl's Herbs and got some skullcap and hops... and I drank a few drops of them in water. It's supposed to quell contractions. I do believe it's helping, plus the nap. And the wine.
I think stuff was just catching up with me. And yes, I'm drinking lots of water.
So I won't call it relief, but it's better than going into labor at 32 weeks.
Tomorrow is Tyler's 26th Birthday. I've had my eye on him for ten years now (well, much longer actually, but nothing can come of love in the third grade). He's gotten cuter and sweeter and funnier. And I love him so much.
The End.
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