For instance, several women exclaimed, "Oh, Braxton Hicks contractions don't hurt!" Ahem. My body decided that it would experience these "fake" contractions for eight hours straight on Saturday. Allow me to dispel those falsehoods by saying that they hurt for this pregnant lady. They hurt like a son of a gun. They hurt so fiercely and so frequently that this first timer and her husband ended up in the Labor and Delivery unit for four hours under the impression that the real deal had arrived. They even duped the midwife momentarily. Much to my relief (I want little lady to continue cooking in there) and chagrin, those eight hours were simply a "warm up" for the main event, which will result in even more pain. Way to be an overachiever, uterus. I am not a long distance runner (or even short distance runner), but my lady bits are headed for a marathon, presumably.
For the record, when you end up in Labor and Delivery, they wrap these straps around your belly in order to monitor your contractions and the baby's heart rate. (Note: the straps cannot measure the intensity of your contractions, just the frequency.) Well, Vincenza hates those straps and constantly kept kicking in the places the straps held onto me. I assumed these kicks to be her futile attempts at removing the contraptions encroaching on her territory. Of course, I couldn't blame her because those straps itched me something fierce.
I do not tell you these things in order to evoke fear or anxiety. I tell you these things so that you remind yourself that your story is your story. Just because it became part of another person's plot line does not mean it will be part of yours.
Anyway, since last week marked 9 months pregnant, I thought I'd throw a little comparison picture your way.
I feel like I look emaciated in this picture when you compare it to my current state, hahaha.