A Lazy Sunday

I started contracting last night and called the doctor. The doc on call confessed, that although he respects the other docs in the practice, tends to disagree on some things and that it won't be uncommon for me to hear different advice from members of the same group. I appreciate the honesty, have already observed this disconnect and heard the same from friends whose pregnancies were also followed by the practice. But come on... in a high-risk specialty, why can't they have some cohesive plan of treatment for their patients?

Ever watch the show, "Deliver Me" on Discovery Health? The three doctors in that practice consult often on their very high-risk patients. Someone in my shoes needs to know the plan, have the docs know the plan and not be the one left to decipher which doc to listen to this time. And in this situation, to listen to is equivalent to placing my unwavering trust in.

Bottom line is, if I have less than five contractions in an hour, I'm thought to be just fine. I would love to hear those same words from the other doc I see. I don't want to be paranoid but can't help but wish I had the opportunity to speak with him about my recent pains and tightening.

So here I am on this Sunday afternoon, still in my pajamas, in bed, catching up on computer stuff and watching lame TV. Hubby has been Super-Daddy as he was up with The Nut before 8:00, leaving me to sleep peacefully until I was delivered a pancake breakfast in bed. He then let me doze again while setting up the "Bounce House" in the basement playroom to tire out Our Girl. Feeling like I was missing out, decided to venture out of bed and downstairs. Glad I did, for this is what I saw...

Not only was my Girl in the Bounce House, but Hubby was too. What a dad, huh?

Listening to my body, I headed back up to my bed after capturing some photos. I just don't feel right and although I've only had two contractions so far today, feel a constant tightening sensation across my lower pelvis.

Since I didn't get much time today with My Girl, opted to snuggle and read "Corduroy" before nap time. Then I went down for a quiet lunch with Hubby, thinking that perhaps I could take on the day and attend the Southern Living Party I RSVP'd to last week. Well, once again, my body gave way and I found myself craving the comfort (physical and mental) only my bed could provide.

Supper Dad morphed into Super Hubby as he cleaned our entire downstairs. Super Dad/Hubby, my Super Man, did it all with a smile, never once complaining that I have done absolutely nothing today with the exception of complain.

I know it's wishful thinking to call the service and learn that magically another doc is on-call. I don't want to miss anything but have to force myself to wonder how much of this is brought on by the fact that at this stage in my last pregnancy, I was just two days away from delivery. That this very moment I was in my hospital bed having my hair washed by my mother and nurse beauty team. And that the same duo shaved my legs when they finished massaging my scalp.