Like yesterday, when I spent an hour at the park, after a slow walk there, and a little bit of moving around, and then a walk home, and some baking. I was on my feet for only two hours, but at the end of it I realized that my belly button hurt and my abdomen was tense and so I got off my feet and had some water and it took half an hour for things to calm down.
The midwife, as ever, was unconcerned. It's common, she says; the fact that it lasted so long is actually good because real contractions don't last like that; just get off your feet and drink more water. It doesn't lead to preterm labour, she says, which is of course what I'm worried about. If I were sure that nothing were changing inside I'd be a lot less concerned, but you never can tell, there's just hope and faith that things will just somehow work out.
Sigh.
Anyway, as of tomorrow by normal calculations I've hit 24 weeks, the point at which premature labour doesn't automatically equal the worst possible pregnancy outcome. And I have no indications of early labour, or any risk factors other than being old (ha ha ha. love that I'm old at 35). So I guess just more water and feet up, which isn't so hard, for the most part.
The only problem is that sitting still makes me stiff, and tired, and so when I *do* get up and get moving I feel all of my 35 years -- or even more, really -- and end up waddling exaggeratedly down the hall or across the parking lot, creaking my ancient and unused bones and muscles along, unkinking as I go. I'm sure I look hilariously comical.
It's not much to complain about, and I'm not complaining, per se. Just realizing that this may well be why people have children at 25. It's clearly possible to have a very healthy pregnancy at 35, or 38, or 41. It's just, apparently, for me, not possible to be comfortable while doing so.
But then when there's a baby concerned, I'll take health over comfort any darn day.
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