I will try to keep the caps lock to a minimum

My greatest wish in the universe right now, right behind PLEASE GOD GET THIS BABY OUT MY BELLY is that my silence in the last two days was due to the fact that I was holed up in a hospital bed unable to tear my face away from the sweet sweet face of our quietly sleeping and good-natured-right-from-the-start little girl.

But this is not so. The real truth is that if I had posted for the last two days, I would have officially had to change the name of this site to Daily Diatribes With Complainy McWhines-A-Lot. And I really don’t have the spare change for a new domain name right now.

So let’s look at the positives of the situation, shall we?  First – both the baby and I are healthy and fine.  Second – the due date is technically next Friday (originally it was the 24th and they never changed it on my chart – a decision I am now seeing the wisdom in) and so I am not overdue or even due yet. Third – I am not unusually physically uncomfortable.  I mean, true, I have a belly that is as big as one of Jupiter’s moons and so naturally have all the normal discomforts that come along with that (feet=flat as pancakes, belly starting to resemble an itchy, baby-filled crepe, am regularly passed on the sidewalk by the elderly using walkers), but on the whole I can’t really say I have much pain, and I consider that a huge plus. Fourth…

Yeah, three is all I got.

The thing is, Bug was eleven days early.  I never got to the waiting phase, because I assumed that like most first babies, he would be on time or late.  So now that I have passed the “eleven days before” mark, this baby officially feels late to me.  And what I have discovered in these few days of being the most pregnant I’ve ever been is that the hardest part of waiting for labor to begin is the overwhelming mental exhaustion that comes along with it.  It’s like my brain has been taken over by zombies.  I am a zombie brain.  I lay in bed at night with my heart pounding, thinking “Is my water going to break now?  Now? Now? Pause. Doze. Startle awake – OMG NOW?” This happens until I fall asleep, but then begins again every time I wake up to go to the bathroom, which at this point is usually twice a night.  Then I wake up to my alarm and realize I am starting another day with no baby.

This kind of REALLY SUCKS.

The other part of the mental anguish comes from the times when I’m sitting around wishing that this baby would come and it hits me: the thing I am wishing for most in the whole world right now is to be in a shitload of pain.  Awesome!  Like last night I had some nausea and felt really crappy for about half an hour and the whole time I kept thinking, “Ugh I feel awful.  But maybe this is labor!” and I would feel excited.  And then immediately after that I would think “Holy shit, this might be labor!” and I would feel terrified. Then I would get excited again and think, “Yay, labor!” and then, horrified, think, “Holy shit, labor!” and then I felt excitement and then terror and then excitement and then terror, then excitement, terror, excitement, terror…and then the nausea passed. And I went to sleep. And I woke up again this morning with no baby.


So crazy that I can’t think of a coherent way to end this post except to say that while I know that walking and keeping physically active will help this baby come out sooner, I will also be diligent in my crossword puzzle solving and Newsweek reading and online ANTM watching.  Because if I don’t use these things to occupy my brain, THE ZOMBIES WILL WIN.

(P.S. Also, in an effort to keep occupied, I will continue to post every day until I AM in the hospital with LG in my arms. TAKE THAT ZOMBIES.)


1 Carol { 10.16.08 at 6:19 pm }

Two words: castor oil.
This old wife knows.

2 Mandy { 10.16.08 at 6:37 pm }

Okay… Jackson was NINE DAYS OVERDUE (Lord, I’m still not over it), and Cooper was FIVE. That means I’ve spent TWO WEEKS overdue with babies. Okay – I’m not helping, and I’m showing my unending bitterness. All of this is to say that my greatest help in time of waiting was a real, live pregnancy massage where the lovely lavender-scented therapist (read: not a spa maseusse named Raoul, but an actual massage therapist with Birkenstocks) pushed the living daylights out of the key pressure points on the inside of my calves and the squishy part between my thumb and index finger. It was heaven, and it totally worked. Within 12 hours, I was holding my baby after a lovely, manageable labor. And hey, if it doesn’t work immediately… BONUS MASSAGE!

As an aside, labor stories are kind of great. When I was NINE DAYS OVERDUE (yep – still not over it), I would read birth stories online. It was like pregnancy porn. The most hard-core of which were the natural, un-assisted birth stories. Those ladies are intense.

Blessings to you and LG as you work out her passage into the world!

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