Yesterday afternoon was a gorgeous one, super hot and sunny, which always puts the people of Seattle in a great mood. Small Human and I went for a post nap, leisurely stroll over to our local Trader Joe's, and everything seemed fine and dandy, until my tummy started to hurt.
I kept walking but found that I had to really slow it down to a snail's pace. The pain kept increasing and I was starting to get scared. At one point I really couldn't walk anymore, it was that painful. I had a strange fullness in my lower abdomen and it felt a bit like there was intense pressure on my cervix like in late pregnancy. I didn't feel anything like this until I almost gave birth to Small Human, so naturally I really started to panic. 19 weeks is way too early for baby to arrive!
With one hand supporting my belly and one hand pushing the stroller, I somehow made it home, sought out my Doppler monitor like a heat seeking missile, and checked on the baby's heartbeat. It was stronger and louder than ever. As I got up to call my OB to ask her about the awful, scary pain I was experiencing, my tummy rumbled and I mercifully let out the hugest, longest fart of life.
I don't think any person has ever been that happy to pass gas in the history of the world. I seriously thought my baby was in danger, but all it was, was a whole lotta trapped air. I celebrated with a giant belly laugh and decided to spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on our balcony in the sunshine with my little boy(s).
Ah, motherhood is so incredibly terror-inducing and humbling, isn't it? May you all have a gas-free Tuesday, folks.
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