I’m actually *not* going to be pregnant forever!
It’s really coming to an end!
OMG YAY!!!!!!!!!!
If you’ve never been pregnant before, you really have no idea how much of a relief this is, knowing that you’ll actually be able to deflate your basketball belly and walk around without pain again. I mean, sure, we all know that pregnancy WILL END at some point but having an actual “if he doesn’t come by X date” eviction date instead of “whenever it happens………….”
HEAVEN.
The sprout’s final, absolute deadline to get the hell out?
February 20.
Scary thought of the day: Tim and I will be parents in TEN DAYS OR LESS.
The 20th would put me a 40 weeks, 4 days and I have zero intention of making it that far. During the OB appointment yesterday, I didn’t find out much else other than I was “stretchy to three centimeters” but still effaced the same and baby sprout was still at a -1 station.
Let me tell you, “stretchy to three centimeters” is a painful experience and after going through that, I’m really not all that keen on experiencing a membrane sweep (where they manually separate your bag of water from your cervix), though I’ll get to talk all about one if I make it to our appointment next week.
*But* the rainbow shining through the vajayjay storm?
The OB said she didn’t think I’d make it that far, to 40 weeks.
Please, dear baby Jesus, let her be right.
She also got 700 million brownie points because as she was feeling my belly to feel the sprout she was all, “No fat. All baby.”
(thank God the baby isn’t in my thighs)
After the appointment, I decided to try as many “old wives tale” cervix thinning/labor starting starting ideas I could think to do, like eating pineapple and eggplant and certain “activities” involving Tim.
And I’m doing them again, today, starting with an hour long walk.
Baby sprout, it’s time.
COME OUT!
There are a few dates we don’t want the sprout to come, one being Valentine’s Day (this date is more Tim than me) and also this Sunday, the 12th. I know it’s harsh but I really, really don’t want this baby sharing a birthday with my dad. I don’t want to give him (my dad) anything “extra” or “special” to talk about when it comes to the sprout. I feel like he doesn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t get to share a birthday with MY child.
(If you don’t already know, the relationship between my dad and I…isn’t. There is no relationship at all. Some background as to why is here, here and here)
(and God or karma will probably have the sprout born on the 12th just so I have no choice but to get over it)
Anyhow, with this date looming, the idea of sprout being born on the 12th is really starting to get to me.
Last night I had the weirdest dream about my dad.
So, my dream: I was going over to his house to get our dogs, Maddie and Lexi. Why they were even over there in the first place…no idea. So, I get there and Maddie has already thrown up and has diarrhea because he let her eat something she shouldn’t (something about a football….that’s all I remember).
I went on a tirade about them not eating any “people food” EVER and decided I was taking them home.
He got all irritated like I wasn’t allowed to take them and I was saying I didn’t care and there was this woman there and he turned to her and asked if she was also a lawyer (no idea what “else” she was…).
I guess he was going to try and scare me into being….what? Sued? I have no idea. They’re my dogs?….
So I kept going off about how he had no clue how to care for them and they hadn’t had any exercise, yada yada yada.
I stormed out, started getting the car ready and then he comes out with the dogs, my two youngest brothers and the woman to walk them (the dogs).
I stood there, outraged he’d even attempt this and was screaming how he didn’t even know how far they actually needed to walk while he just went down the street, grinning the whole time like, “I’ll show YOU.”
I turned to the woman all, “Seriously, they need to be walked AT LEAST three to five miles”
Then I woke up.
Go ahead, dream interpreters.
FIELD. DAY.
(and to everyone else: SEND BABY/GO INTO LABOR JUJU!)
