In the 19th century, an Englishman named John Braxton Hicks described what appeared to be practice contractions in late-stage pregnancies. These contractions were often confusing to women at the time as they were not a sign of true labor.
No offense to Dr. Hicks, but his namesake contractions are bullsh*t.
I first started having Braxton Hicks contractions a bit too early. On March 25, Kentucky was playing Ohio State in the Regional Semifinals for the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament. So there I was, screaming at the television when I suddenly felt horrible cramps that seemed to be coming from my stomach. They went away the next day, but it was a lesson to me that I needed to start taking it easy. My pregnancy was in full swing.
Some very fortunate women can barely detect their Braxton Hicks contractions. I am not one of them. After the cramping episode in March, my next contractions after that just felt like my belly was tightening up and pulling into the rest of my body.
Now they will stop me dead in my tracks. If I'm sitting down when a contraction comes on, I can't stand up until it dissipates because my whole uterus is crunched into a ball of hard muscle. If I'm walking, it's time to stop for a minute.
Last Friday, Roy and I visisted friends for the evening. I started having Braxton Hicks contractions in the afternoon, and they refused to subside no matter how much water I drank, pizza I ate, or lounging I did in the most comfortable recliner ever.
Just my luck- the contractions went away just in time for me to get a raging three-hour case of heartburn.
Late pregnancy is unlike anything I've ever experienced, and it's all in preparation for the most intense physical task I can imagine. I'd be lying if I said I'm not looking forward to having my body back to normal just a little bit. Pregnancy has been great, but it's time to get this show on the road. I'd like to say farewell to Dr. Hicks and move on to something a little more...productive.
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