I’ve snooped around enough pregnancy and parenting blogs to know the things that people get worked up about in the process of cooking up their spawn. I hear a bunch about the Braxton Hicks and the kicking of the ribs. But in our house, our fury has been diverted to another pregnancy hurdle: Round Ligament Pain.
Here’s how it went down.
At around five this morning, Karli turned on the light in our bedroom and said something about going to the hospital. She was in pain and crying. In the course of about five seconds, I did about seven different Muppet impressions, starting with Sam the Eagle as I glared at the light to the Swedish Chef as I spouted some half-awake gibberish that made sense to nobody else and finally into full-blown Animal as I threw on clothes and sped off for McAlester.
The drive at 5ish a.m. made me realize a couple things. First, how do people in places like this live with the hospital thirty miles away? I don’t mean that in a city-fied, “Ugh, how do they live without Starbucks?” kinda way. No, I mean how are these people still alive? Any serious injury is going to bleed out before they can get there. I’m surprised this place isn’t covered in foam rubber just to make sure nobody gets hurt.
Second, I think 5:30 a.m. is early enough that probably 80 percent of the people on the road are probably only there for some kind of emergency. Who else in their right mind would be out that early on a Saturday? That means if you’re in the other 20 percent, you need to speed the hell up, especially on a two-lane highway. It’s too early for casual jaunts. Drive fast or stay in bed.
Long story short, the throbbing and stabbing that Karli was worried would be her appendix rupturing or Squatch in distress were just round ligament pain. Completely normal, especially at about 28-29 weeks in the pregnancy. Karli had been feeling the ligament stretching for sometime, but I guess Squatch’s big head* being in the right spot just caused a little extra pain. So thanks a lot for that, baby.
*I’m guessing. It is my kid, after all.
They told her to take it easy for a couple days, which she was very glad to do. We came back home and went back to sleep for a little while before heading out to a baseball game that she had to photograph. She got a nice sunburn on her legs to go with her stretching ligaments. It’s not a good day to be Karli’s legs.
Of course, Karli’s policy on giving blood apparently applies to scary doctor visits of any kind—later in the day we went and got ice cream. It’s always a good day for ice cream.