There are two types of false labor.
There are the times when you think, this is it, and you call your support, you race to the hospital, they check you in, and it all turns out to be nothing but a storm in a shot glass. If this has happened to you, don’t feel bad: you’re in good company. Because no woman since the beginning of creation has been able to give a clear description of what actual labor feels like, we’re all just guessing. Plus, by the time you’re close to that nine-month mark, your nerves are so frayed that you can feel a sneeze coming on and think your water broke.
Who even knows what a contraction feels like before they’ve had any experience? There are a lot of ways to describe getting hit by a freight train, being ripped in half, or feeling like a wrung-out towel. Yes, we get it, it hurts. But when you’re pregnant, there’s a lot that hurts, and who knows whether that pain you’re feeling in your gut is the onset of labor, or the result of that taco you ate last night? So you play it safe, go to the hospital, where they will shake their heads and send you home. There you sit on your couch, with the remote in your hand. You’d like to watch a movie, but you don’t have the energy to get up, so you flip channels. There’s nothing on at 4 am, so you end up watching Full House reruns, wondering whatever happened to the Olson twins.
And you solemnly swear to yourself that next time you go to the hospital, it will be for real. Unfortunately, you find yourself in the exact same position three days later (it’s those damn Braxton-Hicks contractions, how are you supposed to tell the difference?) and the medical personnel treats you nice, and says things like It’s okay, we see this all the time. Don’t worry about it! Of course, their eyes tell an entirely different story; they think you’re stupid and hysterical and decide for the gazillionth time that they just have to change careers, right now, so they won’t have to deal with you ever again.
The hardest part about labor is waiting. You’ve already waited for so long, and it’s not just your imagination, those last days really do take forever. Having said that, it’s easy to see why pregnant women fall for the false labor signs so easily; a trip to the hospital covers at least a few hours, and what else are you supposed to do to entertain yourself? You’ve already yelled at your husband 5,726 times, none of your friends still want to talk to you because you have nothing new to say, and even your own mother has her cell phone permanently set to voicemail.
The second type of false labor happens when you want to get rid of visitors, or you are forced to go somewhere and you really want to leave. You pretend, and if you’re ballsy enough, this can be done as soon as you are seven months along. Put your hands on your lower back; put your hands on your stomach; go to the bathroom and splash just enough water on your face to make it look like you’re sweating. Refuse all food. Sigh deeply, pretend to have a cramp. Most people don’t know what to expect, and those of us who know what labor is like won’t dare argue with a woman who says: “It’s Time.” Honestly, this will get you out of anything with lightning speed; just writing about it makes me almost sorry I’m not pregnant anymore. It’s such a handy excuse to have.
People that are visiting will want to help; you need to tell them your husband is on the way and right now you’d like to lie down and be alone. If you are somewhere else, make sure you have a trusted friend available, who can pretend to drive you to your hospital. Otherwise you won’t know who is going to volunteer, and then you are stuck. Once in the car, you can go shopping or see a movie. If you run into any of these people later, you just tell them you were having BH contractions; they’ll understand. Or not; who cares?
The only advice I can give you about all this labor business is this: when labor really starts, you’ll know. You really, really will.
I think.
Maybe.
