I'm not designed for breeding.
I know. One would tend to think with these hips and these boobs it wouldn't be any sort of issue for me. But it is. Huge, in fact.
I had my fourth month appointment today, and I've been grateful all week that it was coming up. Because, last night especially, I've been considering calling the doctor on call at night because the tightening of my stomach has been insane. And taking my breathe away.
And I? I would put my feet up, drink a glass of water and tell it to shut the fuck up.
Because, you know, that works.
My doctor concluded today that I'm having pre-term contractions at 15 weeks. It's not too terribly surprising, given this all started with that other doctor hullabaloo and has progressed into when I walk, when I cook, when I go up and down the stairs.
And given that I was on modified bed rest my later-half-of-my-second trimester and full third trimester with Griffin, went into full-fledged premature labor at 20-something weeks with Darwin and was hospitalized multiple times, on strict bed rest and should have had a nurse to keep track of all my keep-the-baby-in-there pills this whole scenario shouldn't come at a surprise, but it's damn disappointing.
The upside is the baby is doing fantastically, I just have a bitch of a uterus who's all "Hey! I know what we do with a baby! We evict it!"
My doctor has a new plan with this pregnancy, something that wasn't available with my other two. Starting tomorrow, I'll be getting weekly progesterone shots. The philosophy is that these shots will calm my uterus down with virtually no side effects - and in all previous patients, they have been able to carry to term without hospital visits and other interventions and have resume "normal" activity throughout pregnancy.
You better fucking work.