Happiness is a warm (baby) shower

Oh those wonderful Braxton Hicks. Sometimes they suck, sometimes a pregnant woman can sleep right through them. On Monday morning I fell into the latter category. I knew they were going on but compared to the pain I usually feel while trying to sleep a few cramp-like pains weren't going to move me from the comfortable position I had finally found after six freaking hours.

I guess they were mild but deadly (probably shouldn't use that word in relation to my pregnancy, huh? I'm already having terrifying dreams.) because at my OB appointment later that day I was three to four centimeters dilated and 75% effaced. WhooHoo! Let's get this party started!

Uh, yeah. Not so fast.

When I was pregnant with Chicky this happened too. My OB at the time was convinced I was going to give birth at any second and told me I should probably take my leave at work and counseled that I might want to stay close to home. TWO WEEKS later Chicky was born.

Or, four days after her due date. Thanks, Doc.

This could take a while. Or it could happen tomorrow. I LOVE pregnancy. No variables at work here.

But I can't have this baby this week because I'm supposed to be getting my roots touched up next Tuesday. Yeah, I've got my priorities straight. Have this baby now or deal with all those wiry gray hairs and dark brown roots. You know that because I have an appointment with my stylist in one week I'll have this baby sooner, though. Right? Because God doesn't want me to be a blond anymore.

So all those things I wanted to do for myself in the next two weeks I'm now afraid to do. Prenatal massage? Could jump start labor. Pedicure? Could jump start labor. Indulging in spicy foods? Could jump start labor. Walking to the damn toilet? How many stories have you heard of women having babies in the bathroom?

Just in case I do go into labor sooner rather than later I'll thank all of you now who participated in the virtual shower this past weekend. I'm working my way through all of your posts and the advice has been decidedly ass-less (get it? Ass-vice? Yeah. I don't sleep, you don't get no funny.). I can't thank you all enough for thinking of us pregnant types and best of luck on those kick ass prizes courtesy of Liz, Kristen and Julie.

You all rock!

And because some of you asked, this is what 37 weeks pregnant looks like, Chicky style:

I think the last five pounds went straight to my cheeks and chin. Think that'll come off when the baby comes? Yeah, didn't think so either.