So today is/was the BIG day. My due date! It was pretty uneventful honestly. Not so much as one measly contraction. I don’t feel like he’s any closer to coming out than he was a week ago. Difference is a week ago I was completely relaxed about the whole situation. I was in NO rush to get this kid out. Truth be told, as much as I’ve found to gripe about on here, I’ve actually had a pretty decent pregnancy.
About two weeks ago people started giving me the look of pity. The look that just screams, “You poor woman. You must hate life right now.” Others would even tell me in person how sorry they felt for me. I didn’t get it. I wasn’t, and still am not miserable. Uncomfortable at times? Yes, but it’s not like I was on the verge of sticking my arms up there and ripping him out just for relief. As hard as it’s been to sleep for long stretches at a time, I’ve had no trouble napping, and I wanted to get in as many good naps as possible before this guy comes and turns my world into one giant sleep deprived blur. Plus, I just didn’t feel ready. I told myself I was cool if he wanted to hang out well past his due date, that I was in no rush to meet him.
Well, funny things happen those last few days leading up to the big 4-0 week mark. In a matter of about 48 hours I went from cool as a cucumber to anxious and impatient. The nesting instinct kicked in and we finally got the apartment in tip-top shape. The bags are packed and stacked by the door, along with a list of last minute items to grab. I’ve read and re-read my birthing books. I’m actually a little bored now. It’s a ridiculous waiting game at this point.
I’ve heard this referred to as the “second two week wait” and it’s so true! I’ve spent the last few days overanalyzing every bodily function, thinking, “Is THAT a sign of labor?” I’ve run to the bathroom, but this time HOPING for spotting, several times a day. I’ve resorted to several old wives tales, including fresh pineapple (I ate and ENTIRE one in 24 hours…fresh is SOOO much better than canned!), bouncing on my yoga ball (perhaps I need to bust out the mini-trampoline instead), walking (the zoo, 88 degrees, 39 weeks 5 days, cranky 4 year old in tow, not fun), and some things in the bedroom that I will not go into detail about since my mother has recently discovered this blog (hi mom!). Still nothing. I’ve felt the occasional what I think to be “real” contraction here and there, but no patterns, not even enough to time. I am also grossly fascinated with going to the bathroom and discovering that lovely crotch snot known as the mucous plug, but alas, it appears I am plugged up tightly and have shown no signs of expelling any of that stuff any time soon.
So here I sit…waiting…willing this child to leave my body. I made a comparison to my husband the other night that I was practically performing an exorcism at this point. I feel like I should be yelling, “LEAVE MY BODY! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!” over and over while dousing myself with some sort of holy water. He told me I was sick and twisted. Probably true.
Now, I know what some of you are probably thinking, “You are just now at 40 weeks, most first time moms are overdue at least a few days, chill out, you’re not helping things, blah blah blah blah.” You’re right. I know, and I wouldn’t say I’m desperate at this point or stressing too hard about it…yet. But here’s the thing. My mom is making the trip up here to help us out on Wednesday (two days from now). She is staying for 10 days. That is all the time I get to have an extra person around who actually knows what the hell she is doing when it comes to keeping a newborn alive. If this kid stays in too long, he will come right before she leaves, leaving me and my husband at home alone with a newborn AND a nearly 4 year old who we STILL haven’t figured out yet. We have nobody else up here who can help out. I am afraid we will go crazy.
So I say this to you unborn son of mine – If you know what is best for you, you will get out sooner than later. It would be wise to take advantage of your grandmother’s time up here while you are OUTSIDE the womb. I’m afraid I will break you if left unsupervised.
40 weeks (OMG!)