Today was Pizza Day at Colum’s school. I love Pizza Day with all my heart because it means I don’t have to make him lunch at 11:15am since he’ll eat when he gets to school.
So my plan was to walk Colum to the bus stop and then continue into the Junction to pick up pizza slices from Vesuvios for Irene and I. How could this plan possibly fail me?
Well, as we were walking together and pushing the empty stroller, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. It must be gas, I thought, but boy did it hurt. It also seemed to have triggered a Braxton Hicks contraction and I felt my entire midsection tighten up. I had to stop walking until it passed. We then continued around the corner when it happened again: a sharp stabbing accompanied by a tightening sensation. This time I actually knelt on the sidewalk while waiting for it to pass. Irene knelt down beside me.
This couldn’t be a contraction, could it? Nah. I’m only 22 weeks along. The baby’s not even viable yet. I always go into labour at 39.5 weeks, everybody knows that. Even if it does turn out to be something, I thought, the midwives and doctors will be able to stop it. Sure. There’s no reason to panic . . . unless I have to go on bed rest! Who would take care of the kids then? We would be so utterly and completely screwed.
I pulled myself together and tried to continue walking again when I felt a familiar urge. “Irene, get in the stroller because we need to go home right away. Mommy needs to poo.”
Ahem. So yeah, everything’s fine. No contractions, no labour, no bed rest. Just some killer gas pains/bowel movement and ill-timed Braxton Hicks.
But, alas, no pizza for me.