Hello, my name is Sasha Brown-Worsham and I have an irritable uterus. No, seriously. This is a real thing! For the past month or so, it has been constantly angry — think: "Are you SERIOUSLY pregnant AGAIN, woman!" — a fact it shares with me by contracting. And contracting. And contracting again. Basically every five minutes. For a month. Yep, it's almost as fun as going on vacation to Hawaii. Except not. At all.
It's not the first time my uterus has been angry with me. Oh no. This is my third time at the rodeo, and each time, my irritable uterus gets crankier and crankier. The last time it was in summer, and I basically think I had one long contraction from week 25 to week 40.
This time around, though, my uterus has reason for its irritability. First of all, this polar vortex crap has got to go. It's goddamn freezing outside, and walking my kids to and from school, though it's only two blocks, is a nightmare, especially when it feels like there is a fork in my cervix and I am contracting.
It's not just that, either. My children, though sweet and excited about their new sibling, spend half their time running around the house, screaming and stir crazy. This winter break was a insanity fest and I am just very glad my husband wasn't working because had I been by myself with them, things may have gotten ugly. So, yeah, sister U has reasons to be pissed.
Beyond the cold and crazy kids, there is also the matter of the to-do list. It is NEVER ending. From getting the nursery set up to planning for my home birth to organizing the playroom and making the baby books I never made for the first two, the last few weeks have been a frantic scramble to get to the finish line. Did I mention that as of five weeks ago, this baby had NO toys and NO clothing? Because she didn't. She does now thanks to my family's generosity and a whole lot of sweet friends, but yeah, it was scary there for a while.
So I get it. I get that my uterus has a lot of reasons to be angry. Asking her to grow a baby THREE times is asking a lot of her. I guess I would want to clench myself up in anger too if I were her. Especially since the body I am attached to seems hell bent on never resting (4:30 a.m. insomnia cleaning, anyone?), but really uterus, you must chill. I must implore you.
Practice contractions are all fine and good, but anyone who says they are painless is a lying liar and must be burned in a pit of hot oil with the other lying liars of the world. Because ouch they hurt. People tell me to take heart and that any contraction is a "productive" one, but I am not holding my baby in my arms, so how productive can they be.
Look, I am fine with being patient. I am fine with waiting for this baby to choose her own birthdate, but let's face it: My uterus isn't the only one who is irritable around here. The end of pregnancy is really uncomfortable.
Come on, irritable uterus, serve your purpose and get this labor going!
Did you have an "irritable uterus"?
