Someone doesn’t like to sleep unless she’s physically attached to another human being (who can blame her, really?) so she’s been spending a lot of time in the Moby Wrap. (If you’re going to be a new mom anytime soon and you don’t have one of these magical items, go get one NOW.)
Anyway, so far I have dripped olive oil, garlic, and chocolate on her head. Didn’t phase her a bit.
In other news now that I no longer feel barftastic at every turn? Seriously, food has never tasted so good. I had a cold artichoke this morning that I had totally innapropriate feelings about, let’s just put it that way. It’s like, returning to the land of the living or something. It’s probably hormones or Vicodin or something, but damn. I just feel so HAPPY.
And now it’s time to go cram another ice cream sandwich in my pie hole. I hope Lightning likes vanilla.
Induction scheduled for tomorrow at 6 am. !
Thank you for all your kind thoughts and words and comments. It means the world to me to go in to the hospital with all of you in my corner.
Ultimately my plan is to let go of the plan and just play it by ear. But my doctor claims I’ll have a real actual baby by tomorrow afternoon. I can’t wait!
See you on the flip side. And thank you again.
I have a doctor’s appointment at 4:00 today, it’s pretty much a done deal that my doctor is going to schedule me to be induced sometime in the next couple of days. Probably Tuesday.
I have made a tremendous amount of terribly unfunny jokes about how I just want the stupid baby out, but I am really stressed out and pissed off and frustrated about having to be induced.
(I am well aware that it’s normally not actually necessary to get things moving right at 40 weeks – but because I have gestational diabetes, my doctor doesn’t want to leave Lightning Bacon in there any more. There is a lot of well informed research about how it’s just fine to go to 42 and a half weeks or longer but I challenge you to sit in your doctor’s office and hear about dislocated shoulders and broken collarbones and brain damage from babies stuck half way out and to hear all that and make a different decision.)
Women all around me who announced they were pregnant after I did are busting out babies and yet here I sit while this just goes on and and on. I wake up sick everyday and it is a major challenge to remain positive while experiencing morning sickness at 4o and a half weeks. Most of the time I just think “This was not the plan.”
I know “the plan” doesn’t matter at all. I tell myself “What matters is a healthy baby” and “you won’t remember this in eighteen years when you’re grounding her for going to a music festival in Austin with Matt Saracen even though you told her she couldn’t go to Austin with Matt Saracen” but at the same time, I mean, it is a little about me, right? I’m allowed to want SOME things for me, sometimes, right?
I remember when I got married. There were so many good memories and it was a great day, a wonderful day, and the things I would have done differently I didn’t know about ahead of time because you (hopefully) only do it once, and so you never have a chance to learn from the experience. I think that’s my problem here, maybe – Eli’s birth was probably 85% of the way I wanted it. 85% of how I would have chose to have it go. And I learned from that experience and now I know more! This was my chance to take that experience and perfect it to 100%. Except I’m not going to get that chance. And also now that induction is looming around the corner, I’m also kind of terrified. I don’t want to sit in a hospital bed having pitocin contractions, strapped to monitors with an IV in my arm. I just don’t. That was not my plan.
People talk all the time about this emotional connection they have with their body – “oh, my body failed me” or “I felt betrayed by my body” or “I started to love my body when I gave birth and saw what it could do” and I really never felt any of that, despite my slow ass metabolism and my short legs and my endometriosis and the celiac disease and all that fun stuff. But now I feel like SUCH a failure. I feel like SUCH a loser. I’m so frustrated and disappointed. I can’t even go into labor! How hard is that to do? For god’s sake – I’ve already done it once, how hard can it be to do again?
Last week they stripped my membranes (so! much! fun!) and the nurse practitioner said she really didn’t think I’d have to be induced and that things were moving in the right direction, and every time I pee which is now like every thirty seconds, I have a really unpleasant contraction, and I ate half a pineapple because the internet told me to and still…nothing. NOTHING.
I’m on one side of that line waiting for the end and I know when I cross over that line sitting out there and I’ve got my baby girl in my arms I won’t care, but right now, it’s all just really getting to me. I am a total sucker for any kind of “it was meant to be” sign and I’ve been grasping at them for weeks, and they slip through my fingers and now there’s no signs, there’s no hidden meaning, there’s just a crackly paper covered table in the doctor’s office and machines and IV’s and and and.
This was not my plan.
*No Darn Baby
So I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with bated breath to hear about the rocking chair sitch, especially after I broadly insulted everyone out there who already owns a glider and is perfectly happy with it. Anyway. As is my usual custom I took the advice of the internet straight to heart and went with comfy and cheap…and I have to say that after my ghetto cushion recovering job, the thing is actually pretty cute! Also, it’s wicked comfortable, and it was $30, so I’d say that’s a win.
Eli finds the inner workings of the glider quite mysterious and won’t be satisfied until he pinches his fingers on it after being told seven million times to leave it alone.
I’m going to try to take nursery pics some time this weekend because lord knows I’m not having any babies or anything.
Keep an eye out for those, if you are interested, they’ll probably go up on Style Lush some time early next week.