Dropped

On Monday night I walked into work one shape and walked out 6.5 hours a completely different shape.  During those hours I felt icky, nothing specific just off.  I was having lots of Braxton Hicks and a few of them were accompanied with cramps.  When I woke up on Tuesday morning (after another very short sleep due to a call back and not the usual teething Maizie) I started to put together what had happened.  When Grants alarm when off I got up and asked him to look at my belly.  "Yep, you've dropped.  You're a different shape."  Not what I wanted to hear at 33.5 weeks.  I've taken a poll of friends and most of them recall dropping 3-4 weeks before their baby arrived although some admitted it happening just days before.  My nervousness seems justified.  I called my midwife who confirmed what I though, I can't work anymore.

Today I had an appointment with her and she's told me that I have to take it easy for the next two weeks, really easy.  She didn't say the dreaded words "Bed rest" but I am treating this with as much seriousness as if she did.  But the next 2 weeks only gets me to 36 weeks.  I'm determined to make it 37 weeks because at 37 the baby isn't considered premature.  My goal for this babies birth day has always been April 2 (I'm due March 31) and that hasn't changed.  At this point I'm thankful for everyday I stay pregnant, I'm not ready yet.  The baby isn't ready yet.  I'm not ready to be the mother of a premie with all that entails, a 17 month old, and a 3.5 year old.

I know that what ever is supposed to happen will happen.  My children were all sent to me to teach me something.  This one, even unborn, is teaching me lessons.  I need to ask for help.  No matter how difficult it is for me.  I can't do everything myself, asking for help doesn't make me weak, and I need to let go of all the guilt I feel for asking for help.  Now I need to get myself to believe and live those words.