Here We Go Again

I went for my bi-weekly doctor check-up today. I had promised Johnny that I would have them check to see if I was dilating at all. I wasn't too worried, because not only was I the textbook perfect preggo at my last appointment, but I was confident in my old pro labor and delivery status. I would *know* if there was trouble. But, like the sweet, indulgent little wife I am, I asked them to check.
Before I knew it, I had been down-graded from "textbook" to "scary." Not only did I have two contractions in the time it took the doctor to measure my fundal height, I was also 4 weeks behind in belly size, hadn't grown at all since my last appointment, putting me at risk for an under-sized baby. So, the doctor already had sentenced me to weekly appointments from now on to watch the baby's size.
As if that wasn't enough, my pelvic exam showed that I am 70% effaced and about 1 cm dilated. I had to get a test done to make sure I wasn't going into active labor and I've been condemmed to "take it easy" for the next 5 weeks.

I thought I was doing so well this time.

Oh, yeah, and the doctor gave me instructions to avoid "intercourse" in about the most awkward way I have ever heard a doctor refer to sex. Wow...I think my suppressed laughter may have led to those contractions...