17 Weeks & Counting

Holy crapballs. The bambino will be here in 17 weeks (or less).
And I say "less" for good reason.
Wanna hear a funny story? Or a couple?

Last night we were relaxing and watching some not-so-good-for-you/trashy reality TV show and the hospital calls me saying  "Mrs. Cortez, your room in the emergency room is ready for you. Please start to head down here."

I kind of looked at the boy like "What the..."
So I asked what this was for. And the nurse told me that the doctor had called in to prep a room since I was going into preterm labor.
UMMM...WHAT?
I told her that I hadn't even been to the doctor that day, but then she verified my name, address, date of birth, social and said everything matched the request.

I had a mini panic attack right about now. Or maybe I stained my pants. One of those two.
She asked if I was in any pain or if I thought I was going into labor and I said negative.
She started quizzing me about stuff I can't even remember now. 
Eventually she said she'd cancel the request but to head to the ER if I started to have complications.
Ummm...okay!

How bananas is that?!
They sure know how to scare the crap outta me.
Literally. Okay, not literally.
But good golly!

Wanna hear another funny story?
This morning, I woke up an hour late for work because I was dreaming about a sandwich.
True stuff right there.
Pregnant woman have crazy dreams. Or it could just be me.

Sometimes I just have to sit back and laugh at my life.
Cheers to Thursday!