Okay, folks, buckle up because today’s share is all about those final crazy days before baby arrives. Honestly? I felt like a walking time bomb last week, so I started seriously watching for signs. Here’s exactly how it went down.
Noticing the First Weird Stuff
First off, I woke up Wednesday feeling like I’d dropped a bowling ball into my pelvis overnight. Walking? Forget it. Had to waddle everywhere like a penguin. My cousin said it’s called “lightning crotch” – stupid name, but man, it hits hard. Next day, I saw bloody show. Yep, that’s exactly what it sounds like: gross pinkish mucus when I wiped. Called my midwife like, “Uh… is this go-time?” She laughed and said it could mean days or hours. Helpful, right?
My Pre-Labour Madness
Friday night hit me with Braxton Hicks that weren’t messing around anymore. Started timing them on my phone while folding baby clothes. Got irregular at first – 10 minutes, then 20, then 7. Super annoying. But around 3 AM? They kicked into gear: 5 minutes apart, each lasting almost a minute. Got so intense I had to grip the couch cushions and moan through them like a weirdo.
Did three things immediately:
- Showered like my life depended on it (you won’t shower again for a while, trust me).
- Chugged two bottles of coconut water – heard dehydration stalls labor.
- Threw snacks, phone chargers, and my fluffy robe into the hospital bag while swaying my hips like a zombie during contractions.
The “HOLY CRAP IT’S HAPPENING” Moment
Then came the weirdest sign: I stopped feeling hungry. At ALL. Which is wild because I’d been eating everything in sight for months. Tried nibbling toast and gagged. That’s when I called the birthing center. Nurse told me to come when contractions made me stop talking and bend over. Literally 20 minutes later, one hit mid-sentence to my husband. Doubled over, couldn’t breathe. Grabbed the bag, yelled “CAR NOW!” and off we went.
Takeaways After Living Through It
What I learned the hard way:
- Don’t wait to pack that dang hospital bag. Do it at 35 weeks.
- Time contractions seriously once they make you pause. App timers suck when you’re in pain – use pen and paper or make someone else do it.
- Trust your gut. If your body screams “GO”, ignore the textbook timings and go.
Ended up at the hospital 6 cm dilated. Wild ride, but prepping for those messy little signs saved my sanity. You got this, mamas!
