I'm still here.
Despite all the calls from concerned family members ("Have you had it yet?"), we haven't had it yet. I had back pain on Monday, but nothing happened. A few Braxton Hicks contractions, but no "real ones". The water has not broken. And Zizou, apparently, still has plenty of room to roam--I can watch my belly heave and burble like the ground near the San Andreas Fault.
Yesterday, while enjoying lunch out with my awesome cousin and her super cool husband (who's in the traveling show of Mamma Mia!, now playing in Madison), I started having some weird contraction-type things.
Except these were not at all what I expected.
I felt like a little tiny Klingon was in my pelvis zapping me with a taser. Or a cattle prod. Definitely something electrical.
They continued randomly while I "taught" for two hours at a local middle school (and sat through the first half of Shrek 2 and High School Musical, again), and then disappeared.
They reappeared around 10 PM. About every 10 minutes. And they hurt. I started sweating.
Why now? I am so tired!!! I just want to sleep. Please, not now. Just wait until morning, OK? Please???
To be on the safe side, after half an hour of hemming and hawing, I decided to cancel my teaching job for today. (Honestly, it wasn't too hard a decision--it was a tough assignment, and I wouldn't have looked forward to it even if I wasn't pregnant.)
They kept up, slowing to about every half hour, until approximately 2 AM. Then I fell asleep. Of course, I still woke up every hour or so to pee (what else is new?), but the contractions (if that's what they were) didn't come back. I started to feel guilty. That's a lot of diaper money I just flushed.
Then about 4 AM I had a thought. A wonderful, fabulous thought.
When I woke at 6:30, I called the sub office. I asked for this day to be taken from my "PI" account (personal illness). That means I get paid for today. We get one day for every 20 worked. I had forgotten. Yay for unions!!! I went back to bed, and slept until 9.
And this morning? Feels like normal. I'll let you know. There's no wifi at the hospital, despite the otherwise-state-of-the-art birthing suites, but I've trained Dr. B to moblog photos to my flickr page from his phone, so if there's anything to report, you'll see it there first. Even if it is just a picture of me looking sweaty, frustrated and angry.
Let's hope that happens soon!