Three-foot-tall superheroes and various Disney princesses ran amuck in my neighborhood Sunday night, as I'm sure they did in many of yours, as children participated in one of my favorite holidays.Oh that glorious night of smearing your child's face with paint that falsely promised to wash off easily and then pumping them full of sugary treats right before bed time.
Halloween is grand.
Instead of the usual shenanigans of a Halloween party, Matt and I opted to stay in for the night since I am beyond-comfortable pregnant. I considered donning a sequined dress and going as a disco ball, but sweatpants just seemed much more appealing.
While my Halloween night was spent eating excessive amounts of candy and trying to avoid catching any glimpse of the seventeen Michael Myers movies being shown repeatedly (I don't care if they are edited for television, they are still scary), my unborn daughter was busy with her own Halloween plan.
Apparently my little girl is going to be a prankster. Even though she is still inside my uterus, she managed to pull a fast one on me, a little trick known as false labor.
Waking up at 5 a.m. is no rarity for a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy. But this particular wake up call I received was unusual in the intensity of contractions. So after timing them for a few hours on my handy iPhone Contraction Counter App, I called the doctor and he gave me the go ahead to come on in.
But after being poked, prodded and probed, the extremely unfunny punchline was revealed to me- my cervix was nowhere near dilated. I was still sealed up tighter than Justin Bieber's chastity belt.
Let it be known, false labor is a cruel and terrible joke by Mother Nature. Because if what I was feeling were just practice pains, I would rather have not known what is in store when the real deal comes along. You try to keep yourself calm in the moment, but that excitement couldn't help but pry it's way into my brain, whispering "we might have a baby today."
Well, little voice in my brain, shut your pie hole because all I got was seven hours of Braxton-Hicks and not a single baby to show for it. We ended up coming home and spending the rest of the day on the couch trying to ignore the consistent waves of contractions that proved to be a big joke. Not funny, baby! Mommy's not laughing!
I just hope this isn't an indication of what I can expect from her in the future. "Hey Mom, I'm ready to get here .... J/K, hahaha!" I don't know how many more false alarms I can handle before I become overly frustrated and just start pushing.
I thought I might be getting a wonderful treat in the birth of my daughter, but alas, I was tricked by hormones and wound up with nothing but leftover Reese's cups. So now every pang in my abdomen, every strange drop of fluid I leak, is suspect. I just hope baby girl got these hijinks out of her system. Because I'm ready for the real shebang, no joke about it.