Friday, July 9th was my last day at work. I spent my last two weeks at work training my replacements and to be frank, working my tail off. There was more to wrap up then I thought there would be. When you've been working on conferences for months with clients, and sometimes years, its hard to just hand over all of your notes. But I was glad to oblige. Some days in the office were a little too warm and stuffy for my pregnant comfort but I did the best I could knowing that a three month break from work was just around the corner. I was down to one pair of shoes that were comfortable to wear all day long, and only a few summer maternity work tops that I could get by in at the office. By five o'clock on Friday it felt great to say some good byes and walk out the door, although it certainly hadn't hit me that I was now on leave.
I had quite the plans for my time off before baby was due to arrive. I am a planner after all. Saturday morning, Jon went off to work and I headed down to Reno to round up our last must-haves before baby. Including big pit stops at Babies R Us, Target and Trader Joes. After four hours of shopping and an hours worth of driving each way (not to mention more money then I wish to reveal), I was back in Tahoe. I stocked our freezer with frozen foods and piled up the bags of purchases in the living room. Jon was over the moon to see so much frozen food in our house. We aren't usually the frozen-food-kind-of-chef's, and he was dying to dig in to the enchiladas, toquitos, orange chicken, and mini pizzas that now lined the shelves.
I think I've shared before that shopping in Reno always takes it out of me. Add to that it being ninety degrees and me being eleven days from my due date, and a nap was all I wanted when I got home. So instead of putting away all of the goods, I ate, rested and read. Surely I had a week to take care of putting everything away. Or so I thought. Jon and I spent our Saturday night relaxing. We walked the dog, I sat, and we relished in the summer Tahoe evening.
After drifting off to sleep Saturday night, I woke up at about 1:00 am with some pains in my lower abdomen. Dang Braxton Hicks. I laid there while they ran their course and then dosed back to sleep. Jon, Blue and I slept in until 8:30 on Sunday morning. My body didn't want to wake up, and being liberated by maternity leave I wanted to indulge in as much laziness and relaxation as possible. With the amazing Tahoe summer sun streaming through our window I slowly rolled my way out of bed and made my way over to the mirror. My body ached. Standing in front of the mirror, I examined my bare belly, as had become my morning routine over the last 38 weeks. This thing looked like it had dropped. I looked at Jon who concurred. My normally round belly now appeared to be in a tear drop shape, weighed down in my lower abdomen. I looked at Jon and told him that this kid is going to come pretty soon. My timeline for "pretty soon" was more along the timeframe of the next few days however then the next few hours.
In the kitchen I brewed Jon a pot of regular coffee, and fixed myself a cup of decaf. This was Jon's only day off for the week and thus our only morning to spend sipping coffee together. As I looked through the cubbards I had a craving for something sweet (nothing too shocking there). Breakfast snails. I had to have breakfast snails. Jon came down to the kitchen and after we debated wether "breakfast snails" was a real term (which we googled and I lost), he happily said he'd drive me to the store so I could run in and buy some. I don't know if I had EVER actually bought breakfast snails. I remember having them as kids while we were camping or on special weekends, and Jon had brought some leftover snails home a couple of weeks back. So on this Sunday, July 11th, I stood in my pregnancy leggings checking out at the grocery store with my pack of breakfast snails while the women in line talked to me about my due date and belly. Back home a few short minutes later I indulged in not one, not two, but three warm snails along with my decaf (read between the lines people: 38 1/2 weeks pregnant, any less then three would be a tease).
Mmm.... breakfast snails.
(Google images and Jon made it apparent that "horn" or "danish"
is a more accurate term for these bad boys.
But I'll now refer to them as "baby movers").
Cramping, cramping, cramping. Sitting on the couch, light cramps slowly creeped into my lower belly. Oh, Braxton, you and your teasing. We let Braxton go to work on my belly while we happily sat, sipped, and talked to the dog (thats inevitable). Soon enough my attention shifted from my decaf fix to what was going on in my torso. At 9:28 am, Jon looked at his watch and timed one to see how long it lasted. I can't tell you at exactly which point these pains went from a sarcastic "good morning to you Braxton" to a "these things aren't stopping". And even though every book and doctor had told us "you'll know when you're in labor" we really had no idea what was going on.