I woke up at about 4:30 AM with an excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. God, I thought I was about to die. I was certain CERTAIN that both my ovaries had simultaneously exploded and were filling up my abdomen with blood. I was positive that I was about to die in a puddle of blood in my own bed -- victim of my (at that moment seemingly) insane desire to birth a child. I had perverted nature (by trying to force my body to ovulate) and now I was going to pay the price!
I decided that if I were about to messily expire (from exploding and coating my immediate surroundings with my life blood and bazillion unfertilized eggs) the most considerate thing to do would be to do so in some other room, some other bed, so that Kristin and Julia (yes, Julia is back in our bed) could continue sleeping uninterrupted. I mean, dead was dead, and beyond help. No need to disturb hard-won and precious sleep with the small matter of my gruesome demise.
As I rolled out of bed, clutching my abdomen and suppressing a shriek of extreme pain, I wondered if I was capable of driving myself to the hospital in this condition, or if I would die mid-drive, causing a terrible accident and killing innocent people. I thought briefly of writing a letter to my soon-to-be-half-orphaned daughter. I thought about creeping back into the bedroom to give my immanent-widow one last kiss. I thought of shaking my fists at the sky and railing at God for the cruelness of fate...
And then I realized that it was just gas. And after a suitable amount to time I went back to the family bed and fell back asleep.
I do think it stretched something out, though, cause I still feel a little achey down there.