Yesterday I had the idea that I would surprise my sex starved husband with a little nooky. I showered and prepped my bod and then pounced on him just as he was waking up. Pounced implies I had full control over my body and faculties but I'm fairly sure it was more of a "I fell onto the bed in a heap" kind of moment--I am not a graceful pregnant woman. I feel like an adorable mi nature elephant. I think I look cute, but I'm definitely lumbering. Anyways, we start having sex and it's not half bad. Then my hip pops out the socket for a moment...that wasn't fun or pleasurable and it's never happened before. I wiggle, it goes back and I go back to my business at hand. It pops again and I decide it's time to change positions. I'm guessing the leg popping business is the whole stretching of ligaments and whatnot in preparation for the baby. Whatever it was, it was loud and it was not hot! A few minutes later in this new position, John looks at me alarmed and says, "You're bleeding."
My heart stops.
I run to the bathroom and check myself. I am indeed bleeding--enough to be concerned but not enough that I'm screaming (yet). I don't think I'm breathing any more. In the next minute we debate what to do. We decide. Get to the car, call the doctor on the way to the hospital. We are calm. We get the new insurance card, the doctor's business card and phone easily, as if they were placed out and waiting for us. John grabs my license just in case I need it in the emergency room. He begins driving towards the closest hospital while I calmly place a message with the messaging service.
The doctor calls me back--asks me a series of questions which for some reason I cannot answer alone and must consult John on--how much am I bleeding? Would you say it's like my period? And bless him, he answers all the questions for me and I echo them into the phone. In an almost tired "I've heard all of this before" voice she tells us to go home--we probably just bumped my cervix which is delicate now. If the bleeding continues after an hour, head down to the emergency room. I pride us on the fact that we were both so calm and collect with the whole situation...I'm really just talking because I don't want to think about the next hour.
We go home and we try to relax. I head to the bathroom and check myself. Still bleeding. I put my head on the sink and begin to cry. And the tears don't stop for awhile. John talks me off the toilet that I probably would've sat on for the entire hour. I don't have any cramps, I don't have any pain...we have most likely just bruised my cervix like she said. I nod and wipe my eyes. John pulls Psych up on the Tivo and makes me laugh...he never watches my stupid show we me. He stays with me so that I don't go running back to the bathroom. In my head I'm trying to gauge whether or not there's been any more bleeding, I can't tell but I try to laugh at the stupid, easy jokes on TV. After an hour I go back and check and the bleeding has all but stopped. The crisis was averted, there was no actual crisis and now for the first time since the early days of pregnancy I am full of fear, doubt and worry*.

* I am feeling better now, but when I wrote the post I was feeling very fragile.

** It will also be a rare miracle if we actually have sex over the rest of the pregnancy, we're both feeling a little gun shy.