Good news! I think the end is in sight. Hopefully by saying that, I haven’t jinxed myself. **contractions, please don’t stop now.**

Here’s a cervical dilation chart for you to review. Your day is now complete.

I went to the doctor today, for my 40-week checkup. FORTY FREAKIN’ WEEKS. I don’t know … maybe we’ll be done after TWO is born. Thinking about doing this again makes me want to poke my eyes out.

I think I no longer dislike my OBGYN. She won major points by telling me that I have progressed to 4.5 centimeters (see chart above), and that she is thrilled with how I’ve chosen to manage my pregnancy. She said she wishes more women would refuse interventions. That was nice to hear.

This leads me to wonder why interventions have become the normal way to go in this country. In a normal pregnancy, they aren’t needed. And a due date is just an educated estimate. So why is everyone asking me when I will be induced? I don’t want induction. Yes, I am extremely impatient and have hated almost every moment of being pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to force the baby out before he’s ready.

I also don’t want an epidural. THAT is a conversation starter. I had a nice long chat with a security guard today about that topic. She just couldn’t believe that I was choosing to have this baby naturally. Sure, some people accidentally get to the hospital too late and then they are just out of luck — but to CHOOSE it? She was incredulous.

I had an epidural with ONE and I hated the experience. It was riddled with unnecessary interventions and I am just grateful I summoned everything in me to push him out just in time;  they were booking the O.R. for my c-section when he emerged. He broke my tailbone but he was healthy, and I had a surprisingly fast recovery. Getting through that ordeal gives me the confidence to do things differently this time.

Supposedly, my brain is going to kick in and endorphins will help me manage my pain while I’m in labor … I guess this is nature’s way of keeping mothers from passing out? All I know is, I am ready to get this show on the road. Whatever I’m about to go through, I know it will be worth it.

Send us some positive vibes!!
 

My due date is two days away, and yes, I am still pregnant. 

The ONLY reason you can see my foot here (can you find it?) is because I’m standing on one leg, holding it out in front of my ginormous belly. 

Don’t you just love my nightgown? It’s circa 2008 from my first pregnancy and is, hands down, the ugliest thing I own.


Husband thinks my stomach is bigger this time than it was when I was pregnant with ONE. I can tell you that while I’m not sure if my stomach is larger, I do know I am 8 pounds heavier and a whole lotta unpleasant. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to discuss anything, I don’t want to do anything.

Meanwhile, I continue to field questions from well-meaning people out there in the world. Yesterday I went to the credit union to get some money. The nice ladies there were aghast that I was,

1. Still pregnant
2. Walking around by myself in public — “shouldn’t you be at HOME? Or in the HOSPITAL?!”
3. Smiling (trying not to laugh at the above comments)

One of them, who I don’t really enjoy on a normal day, came around the counter to inspect me up close. She looked me up and down. She peppered me with questions, the most notable being “ARE YOU WALKING?? YOU NEED TO BE WALKING!”

Look lady, it’s 97 degrees outside, with a heat index of over 100. I most certainly am not walking. The only thing worse right now than being pregnant, is being pregnant whilst walking in this ridiculous heat. 

What I have been doing: reading, laundry, cooking, climbing stairs and chasing after my soon-to-be-three-year-old. And napping. And hoping that today will be the day.

I am rested.

My to-do list is pretty much done. When is the last time that happened?! I can’t recall. 

Not working really has its perks. I can see why people enjoy it. Now all I need is a Range Rover, a pilates instructor, and a lot more money.

At my checkup last week I was relaxed and happy. My doctor asked about those killer-but-not-productive contractions I’d been having for weeks … the ones that had me convinced I was going to end up having TWO early.

“Well,” I said, “They stopped the day after I stopped going to work.”  

She commented that was “interesting.” I wanted to take her clipboard and bash her over the head with it. NO IT’S NOT!!! I have been telling her for over half of my pregnancy, that stress was causing the contractions. But since I am healthy, the baby is healthy, and I wasn’t running to the hospital every time I got them, she never saw fit to give me a written excuse to not be at work.

As a result, I am burning vacation time to sit at home and rest. It might sound silly, but it’s worth it to ME. I highly recommend to anyone who is completely burned out, to get yourself knocked up as quickly as possible. Then take vacation time to sit at home and rest before that bundle of joy gets here and your life takes on a new form of chaos.

You haven’t lived until your doctor tells you have a “good cervix.”

… thanks?

The heat index is 110 today. Our downstairs a/c stopped working last Saturday.

It’s been 5 days of living hell.

The repairman came out yesterday. We need a new compressor which has to be ordered. We’re not sure when it will be repaired … he refused to say. So I called our home warranty company.

My expected hold time? 15 minutes. I should be good and pissed off by the time someone gets on the phone with me.

I think I’m in pre-labor. 

According to What To Expect When You’re Expecting, this could go on for weeks. So far, it’s been going on for about one week. So … do with that what you will. 

The unfortunate part is, I have a job. And a two-year-old. Husband can pretty much take care of himself, but it’s really hard to feel like absolute crap and still function. In fact, on Friday, I stopped trying. I called in sick and I literally slept for almost 24 hours straight. I don’t recall going through this when I was pregnant with ONE. If I did, it was at the VERY end.

TWO has a name, and tiny soft clothes, and a place to sleep. I’m ready for him to come out (I think? I have some anxiety about that actually … ), but it’s still a little early — I’m only 35 weeks. We just have to hang on a little while longer. In the meantime, I am REALLY, COMPLETELY SICK OF FEELING LIKE CRAP AND COMPLAINING ALL THE TIME. 

To everyone who has to deal with me daily: I’m SORRY. I used to be a fun person. One day I hope to be back to my normal self. I don’t even worry about being fat forever … right now I’m worried that I’ll be a miserable complainer forever.
 

I’m miserable. MISERABLE. It sucks. I dislike being a Debbie Downer, but seriously. I have nothing positive to say. I am constantly dizzy, nauseous, uncomfortable, and generally pissed off.

This morning I lamented to Husband over why I did this to myself. Meaning, this misery. The pregnancy. I am so deep in Braxton Hicks and heartburn and constant lightheadedness it’s hard to see the other side — the part where the awful part is over and I have TWO in my arms. Before I see him, I will become even more miserable than I am right this minute and there will be several points where I feel like I might die.

I just need encouragement. I’m worried about my plan for a natural birth and wondering if I should just say screw it all and sign myself up for a c-section. Obviously, I’m having trouble with irrational thoughts along with all of my other issues. I’d like to hide in a hole until I meet TWO. Thank you.

Fact: It is possible to overdose on stool softeners. The results are not favorable.

My maternity suit reminds me of a tablecloth.

Today it occurred to me that maybe the best time to wear swimwear is when one is pregnant. 

You’re already fat. There is no need for a miracle suit to camouflage problem areas, because they are all a problem. It’s just straight up, I’m fat. And you can’t make fun of me because I’m pregnant. 

I mean, you CAN … but that would make you a bad person.

I enjoy simplicity.