Contracto, ergo sum

I just found an article that describes exactly the tribulations I am going through these days with my very pissed off irritable uterus:

My Uterus and the Terrible Twos

A lot of time and energy has been focused on my cervix, and rightly so, as it has been cause for concern, however, the real pain-in-the-ass, sulky brat of the family is my uterus. The cervix is the quieter one, gamely struggling along, trying its utmost to do its bit for the great good.

But my uterus…. What a total *****. I know you aren’t supposed to say that about your own body parts but I am nothing if not honest. As I have previously mentioned I suffer from an irritable uterus (it’s a real thing), but my uterus takes this medical diagnosis a step further is just plain bratty. My ute is exactly like a typical two year old toddler, going through that ‘terrible twos’ phase.

My gorgeous niece, who is two, is going through a similar phase, where her entire vocabulary seems to be made up of the phrase “I don’t like it”, said in an extremely whiney tone. If you make her orange juice, she doesn’t like it and wants berry juice etc. Her favourite dish from yesterday? She doesn’t like it today. Cheese? I don’t like it. This dress? I don’t like it. Ah don laaaaak ittt.

My ute is like that. But worse. Everything irritates my uterus. Full bladders, lying too long on one side, clothes that press even gently on my belly, the list is endless and sadly it is growing.

The equivalent of the ‘throw yourself on the floor tantrum’ behaviour exhibited by my uterus is for it to tighten up and get hard in the manner of a BH, bordering on a contraction. In other words behaviour requires my most immediate and urgent attention. Behaviour that if not placated will start off labour. My ute has got me by the balls.

As the list of “I don’t like it’s” gets longer, so my world gets smaller. My uterus has now decided that it HATES me to sit for longer than about 45 minutes. After this time it will make its displeasure clearly known and force me to lie down to appease it. So my favourite weekend pastime of going out for breakfast with my husband is no longer.

Apparently sitting in the passenger seat of a car is also now not acceptable. Any thing longer than 10 mins drive and I get a big BH. Which means I can’t attend the family gathering on Sunday for BIL’s b/day, or drive to the baby shop to get any more things. Funnily enough my uterus doesn’t mind me standing or walking around. I just may not sit as this squashes it and it ‘doesn’t like it’. Of course I can’t do lots of standing or walking because of my long-suffering cervix. So lying down it is. Which is a pity because I would love to use this time to write, but even half lying, half sitting is apparently a no no.

It would appear that my one little luxury left over, a facial, is also now no longer acceptable, after yesterday’s session my uterus performed the whole day. I have never met a sulkier brat in my life. Apparently lying on my back forces my uterus to squash a little and press on my bladder, my ute hates my bladder even about as much as it hates being squashed, lord knows why, and so now hates facials. If my poor bladder gets even slightly full and DARES to encroach on the ute’s territory, the ute will respond viciously with a severe tightening. Never mind that the ute is actually taking up space previously reserved for the bladder. The bladder is petrified. As am I to be honest.

And don’t think this sulky brat behaviour ends at night, oh no. We will go to bed apparently all on good terms, my cervix, bladder, uterus and I, when my uterus will decide my bladder has upset it somehow. Cries of ‘you’re in my space’ and other winging follows. And beware the consequences if I feign extreme exhaustion / sleep. A mother of all tantrums will follow with a tightening that basically forces me to get up, have a quiet word with my bladder, empty it to make space, make sure every one is happy again, rearrange the pillows and hope that we all go back to sleep. This happens several times a night, for example the previous night it was 11, 12, 12:20, 2, 4 and 5. And not just any pillow under my belly. The ute doesn’t like that pillow or the other one, only this one. I just love nighttime.

In fact sometimes the uterus gets so sulky I am not even allowed to rest my hands on my belly to feel the kicks and movement. Oh no. It just wants to be left alone.

Luckily for me I can recognize the signs of a tantrum coming on quite easily and can immediately distract my uterus, the only time I can’t is if I am sitting because then there is no stopping the irritable cow. Sigh.

And so, while my cervix the one forcing me to take it easy, it is my uterus that is completely ruling my life and defining my world. I am a slave to the whims of my uterus.