On Friday, I had a good 3 to 4 hours of contractions. They were actually quite uncomfortable and at times were only 2 minutes apart. But instead of calling my husband at work and telling him, “It’s time!,” I called him and told him to come home and help me with the kids because I couldn’t do much but sit on the couch and deal with my belly.
I knew it wasn’t “time” because I am the queen of false labor (and it’s a little early, as I was only a couple days shy of 37 weeks). With both of my first two pregnancies, I had solid contractions for a good week to two weeks before I finally had my kids. It’s always frustrating and I recall doing lots of crying with child 1 and 2, just wanting it to be the real thing already. But the up side is that the contractions usually prep my body and in the past I have been 4 and 5 centimeters before I ever even got to the hospital to deliver each child.
Anyway, long story short, the contractions eventually subsided as I assumed they would, and then we went out to eat Mexican food so I could spoil myself with chips and salsa. And spoil myself, I did.
But all I could think about while I was contracting were all the things I had yet to do; including take some decent belly shots that didn’t include me in my bedroom mirror with an iPhone. We had plans to spend Saturday finishing up a bunch of last-minute baby things, so I was slightly relieved when the contractions subsided and I was able to get to my to-do list.
So on Saturday morning, the first thing I did was take some shots in the nursery. Now, they aren’t professional and some of them were taken with my tripod (the others by the Mr.), but they are a representation of this last and final pregnancy and one final ode to my body looking this way.
I know some women don’t like the sight of a bare pregnant belly, so I apologize if these are icky to you, but I happen to think that pregnant bellies are quite beautiful and should be documented. After all, what’s happening to my body is nothing short of miraculous!
