It was 4 a.m. and I was up for the third time that night for yet another trip to the bathroom when I heard the rooster crowing.
Wait, what? Why is there a rooster crowing at four in the morning when it’s clearly still dark outside? In fact, why is there a rooster crowing in city limits at all?
It’s been a while and still the neighborhood rooster begins his crowing long before the sun comes up and keeps on crowing well into the afternoon. Between his constant cock-a-doodle-dooing and these Braxton Hicks contractions, I’m beginning to consider myself an expert in false alarms.
In fact, not too long ago I dropped by the post office to mail a package while my husband ran to the bank to deposit a check. Unfortunately, I left my cell phone in the car with him and then was left alone with no transportation and no form of communication as the most painful contractions I had yet experienced set in. In retrospect, it’s not that surprising considering my track record with bizarre circumstances.
When Josh finally finished his errand at the bank and made it back to the post office 20 minutes later, I nearly sent him driving straight to the hospital. But by the time I’d calmed down, the contractions started to subside and proved to be yet another false alarm.
Now, barely more than two weeks from my due date, I’m almost afraid the rooster’s going to crow and I’m just going to hit the snooze button. It’s the “boy who cried wolf” conundrum. After so many false alarms, it’s hard to know when it’s the real thing.
But as I’ve said before, this military lifestyle does have a way of getting you used to being on your toes. There have been so many false alarms and last-minute changes in plans, I’m almost comfortable in this state of not knowing. So thanks, Uncle Sam, for the lesson in spontaneity — I have a feeling it’s about to come in handy.