I had a totally scary moment last evening where I began having contractions. Normally, I work really hard to use language from my Hypnobabies tracks to remember that I don’t need to associate negativity and pain with birthing. But these took me totally by surprise and felt like nothing short of contractions.
I had just put Miles to bed after a really intense 6 hours of solo parenting sans nap (for either of us). The moment I sat down on the couch, my body started to freak out. I felt pressure in my pelvis and then the whole front of my baby belly seized up, painfully. Yikes!
I consulted the 3rd-trimester packet from the midwives and proceeded to drink 4 cups of water. Things finally began to calm down just as I was about to make a panicked phone call.
32 weeks seems a little early for my practice waves to begin, and this felt really different from the Braxton Hicks I remember from last time. Those were just a tightening, where this pretty much felt like go-time. My assessment is dehydration.
For some reason, I really struggle to hydrate this pregnancy. Which is so odd for me, because before I had my son I used to be the champion of drinking enough water. My whole pregnancy with Miles, I drank 80+ ounces of water every day as prescribed and really ramped that up in the summer when I continued working out through my third trimester and the humidity of a Pittsburgh July.
This time? Sometimes it’s 10am and I’ve been parenting for a hard 4 hours before I remember to sip some liquids. I guess the milk at the bottom of my cereal would count if I got to sit down and eat the cereal quickly enough that the flakes didn’t sop up all the milk. So yeah…my body is sending me a stern reminder to be better about self-care.
I’m not sure if I need to resort to setting an alarm every hour (or if that’s even practical). I am going to bring my favored water bottle to and from work and put wine glass markers on the handle each time I drain it. I figure if I get down 3 bottles before bed I should be meeting and exceeding slightly my hydration goals.
This will mean, of course, more night wakings to waddle to the bathroom. I’m considering using Miles’ potty chair, although lowering myself onto that might be harder than just making my way to the bathroom. Hmmm…