Oops, I did it again

Oh y'all.  I did it again.

I dragged someone to the hospital in the middle of the night for no reason.

False labor tricked me again.  My contractions hurt so badly that I was in tears.  So, even though I felt really dumb when they sent me home, I don't think I would have done anything differently had I been presented with the situation again.  I must have looked as defeated as I felt when they told me they didn't think I was in labor because Jimmy told me over and over again, "please don't be upset.  You are just being a good mom."  Because (as I have mentioned) he is amazing.

So, trying to look at the bright side: now there is a bag packed.  It took me over an hour to get it packed because I was refusing to let him do it, and I kept stopping to have contractions or look for things that I had walked past 40 times or things I had already packed.

Jimmy: "if they send us home tonight with no Vivian, you leave this suitcase packed!"

Me: "duh."

I'm actually kind of glad that I had this experience.  Having a scheduled c-section is 99% awesome.  I won't list the reasons, but they are numerous.  However, what you don't get is that "OMG, this could be it!" experience, so even though the drive to the hospital on c-section day is very much exciting, it's different.

This little dry run was quite enjoyable in hindsight because I got to see Jimmy's reaction to me possibly being in labor.  He was a nervous wreck (although still managed to pry the bows I was trying to pack for Vivian out of my hands and hide them from me....he gave them back yesterday, and I snuck them into the bag because two can play that game).

At one point, I was dealing with Gavin and I'm pretty sure I heard him in the bathroom hyperventilating.  

Me: "are you having an anxiety attack?!"

Him: "no. (gasp). I'm fine. (gasp). I promise. (gasp)"

Once we finally got loaded into the car and got Gavin dropped off with my mom (Silas was already there), Jimmy drove like a lunatic until I gave him "the look" at which point he rambled off into a speech about how he was sorry and I had to trust that he would never do anything to put mine or Vivian's lives in danger but he was very nervous about me having a baby in the front seat of his truck what with us living, like, an hour from the hospital.  Also, he slowed down.

Once we got to the hospital, they hooked me up to the monitor which tracked my contractions and monitored Viv's heartbeat.  Her heart rate sounded pretty steady while the nurse and I chattered away, and then Jimmy spoke for the first time.  Her heart started racing, and he and I got little happy tears.  It was insanely sweet to hear her reaction to her daddy's voice.

They checked to make sure I wasn't dehydrated (I was not - thank you very much) and made sure I wasn't "progressing" (I wasn't), and then just kept coming back to ask about whether or not the pain was getting worse (it was).  Finally, they decided to sedate me (I think my nurse felt sorry for me because I was so tired but couldn't sleep for the pain and couldn't stop crying).

After the medication kicked in (3 am, obvi), they woke Jimmy up (I had insisted he go to sleep on the little couch) and told him he could take me home.  

I haven't taken any sort of sedative-type medication since I had Gavin, so I was a mess.  I put the seat back in the truck and tried to sleep but kept popping up to speak every random thought that occurred to me, "I really like the color gray!"  We got home at 4 am, and I somehow managed to climb the stairs and fall into bed.  The last thing I remember before drifting off into insane dreams was Jimmy kissing my cheek and saying, "thank you for being so brave."  (ugh, he's sickeningly perfect at being a good fiance/baby daddy).

I spent most of yesterday on the couch trying to come back from the land of Oz.

Today it's back to work as usual.  My last week of work before taking a few days off to finally tackle the last of the last minute preparations for Vivian.  

The dry run was embarrassing, but it certainly let me know I am in good hands.

One week, four days.  Eeek!