False Alarm at 38 Weeks: Our Almost-Labour Story (2011 + 2026 Reflection)

 

 

Originally published May 2011 as "Yesterday and the Panic" — updated with reflections in 2026

In the words of my mother: what a palaver.

Candy was 38 weeks pregnant with our second child, James. With our first, I was the classic nervous new parent — every twinge, every ache, every “funny feeling” had me ready to ring the midwife or head straight to the hospital. I was terrified something would go wrong, and everyone kept saying, “better safe than sorry.”

Looking back, Candy had a completely healthy, textbook pregnancy with William. Nothing to worry about. The labour was quick too. She’d had pains about 18 hours beforehand, but with painkillers, a hot bath, and a sleep, she managed most of it without realising how close she was. She woke me at 5:30am, and by 8:30am we were holding William.

This time around, we’d been told again and again that everything was healthy and straightforward. That reassurance helped us decide on a home birth. There were lots of reasons behind that choice, but knowing both Candy and baby were well made it feel right.

The False Alarm

Yesterday we had our first false alarm — but unlike last time, it wasn’t panic-driven. We’d shrugged off all the Braxton Hicks and “maybe?” moments so far, trusting that when labour really arrived, we’d know.

Candy woke up looking drained and pale, complaining of a deep ache and cramps. They weren’t consistent, but they definitely weren’t Braxton Hicks. She felt sick but hadn’t been.

I plodded on. I went to church as usual, but things intensified. Candy ended up being sick, and the cramps were still irregular. She turned to me at one point and said, “This could be it.” When I asked if she was sure, she said, “I don’t know — I can’t fully remember what it was like.” She knew it wasn’t Braxton Hicks, but couldn’t decide if it was contractions.

My priority became getting William out of the house so Candy could rest without a toddler bouncing around. With my mum in hospital for surgery, I took him to my best friend’s house. Honestly, I think they entertained both of us. I was on edge waiting for the call to say, “This is definitely it,” but the contractions stayed irregular. Still there, but no pattern.

After eight hours of this, we decided to call the midwife. By the time I got home, Candy was resting in bed and her sister, Carissa, had arrived. The midwife examined her and, although she couldn’t diagnose anything outside pregnancy-related issues, she suspected a stomach bug. Definitely not labour. If anything, the cramps were still Braxton Hicks, just intensified by the bug.

Candy is much better today — a bit sore and slightly sickly, but nowhere near as bad. We saw the midwife again this morning and James is doing well.

[Image 2. James’ sonogram — taken earlier in the pregnancy]

[Image 3. A 3D scan of James. Even now, I can still see the same shape of his nose and cheeks.]

[Image 4. Will the next day — completely unfazed by the chaos, as toddlers always are.]

The whole thing left me anxious and on edge, but it also reminded me that we’re prepared. We have everything we need, and we’re surrounded by loving friends and family who step in without hesitation.

Now all that’s left is for James to arrive.

2026 Reflection

Almost fifteen years have passed since I wrote this, and reading it back now feels like opening a time capsule sealed by a completely different version of myself. In May 2011, I was a man trying to hold everything together — a second baby on the way, a toddler at home, my health changes and challenges, and a marriage that, although I didn’t fully see it then, was fracturing. I was trying to navigate a situation the best way I could, even if I look back now and see that time so differently. Hindsight is both a blessing and a curse.

James was born just three days after this post, on the 19th of May. I wrote about his birth a few days later, full of hope and adrenaline and that strange mix of fear and joy that comes with becoming a parent again. What I didn’t know then was that within three months, Candy and I would separate. Everything I thought my life was going to be shifted overnight.

That separation changed everything, and not just my home life, but my identity. It’s the reason this blog exists at all. I needed somewhere to document my days, to show and prove that I was an active, present, engaged dad. Someone who didn’t disappear, but show up and fought for his place in his children’s lives.

Looking back at this post now, I can see the younger me trying so hard to do the right thing, to be steady, useful, and prepared. I can also see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The panic I describe here wasn’t just about labour, it was about everything I was fighting that I didn't want to come out and so much that I didn’t yet understand was coming.

I’m grateful for this version of me. He didn’t know what was ahead, but he kept going. He loved his children fiercely. He wrote things down. He tried.

Now, in 2026, with James turning fifteen, I can read this without the ache I used to feel. Instead, I see the beginning of a story that shaped me into the father and the man I eventually became.

If you’d like to see where we are now — and read the many moments that happened along the way — you can explore more in the Family & Parenting section.