Page 85 of Pregnant in Plaid
"Nothing. Just a cramp."
"A cramp? Like a contraction?"
"No, like a—" She winces again. "Okay, maybe like a contraction. But it's fine. It's probably just Braxton Hicks."
"Braxton what?"
"Braxton Hicks. False labor. Totally normal." She breathes through it, then relaxes. "See? Fine."
I'm already reaching for my phone. "We should go to the hospital."
"Trace, no. It's fine."
"You just had a contraction!"
"A false contraction. That's literally what Braxton Hicks are. They're practice contractions. The book says they're completely normal in the third trimester."
"What if it's not false? What if you're actually in labor?"
"I'm not in labor. Trust me, I'd know."
"How would you know? This is your first baby!"
She gives me a look. "Women have been having babies for thousands of years without panicking men hovering over them. I'm fine."
But I'm not fine. I'm the opposite of fine. I'm watching her like she might spontaneously give birth at any second, and she's acting like this is no big deal.
"At least call the doctor," I say.
"It's eight in the morning on a Sunday. I'm notcalling Dr. Martinez about normal pregnancy symptoms."
"Then we go to the ER."
"We're not going to the ER for Braxton Hicks contractions." She stands up carefully. "I'm going to take a shower. You're going to calm down. And then we're going to have breakfast like normal people."
"I don't want to be normal people. I want to make sure you and the baby are okay."
"We are okay." She touches my face. "I promise. If anything feels wrong, I'll tell you. But right now, I just need a shower and some food."
I watch her head to the bathroom, every muscle in my body tense. This is what the next six weeks are going to be like, isn't it? Me panicking at every twinge while she tells me to calm down.
Assuming she's even here. Assuming she stays.
No. Stop that. She's staying. She has to be.
I grab my phone and start Googling Braxton Hicks contractions. Ten minutes later, I'm both reassured and more anxious than before. The internet is not helpful. Half the sources say they're totally normal and have nothing to worry about. The other half list about forty things that could be wrong.
Patrice emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping.
"Did you spend the entire time I was in the shower Googling pregnancy symptoms?" she asks.
"No."
"Liar."
"Okay, yes. But in my defense, the internet is very confusing and mostly just made me more worried."
"Stop Googling." She digs through the dresser for clothes. "The internet will convince you that every symptom is either nothing or imminent death. There's no middle ground."
