I called my grandma the other day. We were both battling the cold that seems to be making it’s way around all the households these days. I giggled when she asked, “What happens if you go into labor? Will the hospital turn you away because of your cold?”.
I got up to pee four times last night.
I didn’t really think twice about the due date that my doc originally assigned me because early-on it didn’t really matter. But now that the countdown has begun and I know the induction conversation awaits just around the corner, I’m finding myself researching due date calculations and adjusting mine – in my favor, of course – accordingly. Luckily google agrees with my calculations so now it’s just a matter of convincing my doc that my calculations make more sense than his.
I roll my eyes every time I over hear willy joyfully say “any day now”, which started at 38 weeks and while technically true, seems like a statement that was made in what should be considered ancient history in terms of labor. I keep reminding him, and everyone he suggests “any day now” to that “any day now” most probably means at least a week or two or – God forbid – more.
I’ve been checking my underwear like its fucking Easter and I’m hoping to find an Easter egg. And by Easter egg I mean any sign of life to come — discharge, blood, even dribbles of urine the lunatic in me can pass off as “leaky water”.
It’s getting harder to hold my bladder. I shoved Hooper out of the way to beat him to the toilet the other day and felt like a total loser. When I was pregnant with him, I mistook pissing my pants for my water breaking. When it happened the second time, I was actually prepared with a plastic syringe I had taken from work and used to draw some up off the floor to prove, in fact, it was urine.
Every time I feel a contraction I hear this voice in my head that sounds like a sweaty man watching Sunday football, his favorite player running in a touchdown, with teeth clinched and grunting – almost as if during aggressive sex you see in the movies – chanting “yes! Yes! Bring it! Bringgggg ittttt”… And then the contraction ends I feel like I just got off one of those chintzy roller coaster rides at the local carnival when I was hoping for amusement park grade.
The milk in our fridge expires well past my due date. It’s weird to think of me going into labor, spending a few days in the hospital, and returning home – with a baby – to that same gallon of milk in the fridge. Hashtag: where my thoughts go.
Baby brain is in full effect. I refer to things I did yesterday as occurring days ago and am baffled when asked by someone how yesterday went because, for the life of me, I can’t recall a mere 24 hours prior to whatever moment I’m currently in.
I met my sister for dinner at a local mall and ended up leaving the mall with a bag full of girl clothes. I’m not really sure what spurred the urge. Lately I’ve been feeling like this babe may be a little lady, though regardless I find my actions completely absurd. I’ve added ‘return bag of girl clothes’ to the honey-do list while I’m in the hospital should another dick come out of me.
I’m sick of not being able to see my lady parts and yet, when I catch a glimpse in the mirror, I wish I hadn’t. Know what I mean? y…eah.
And yes, we included Jimmie in our last round of booth photos.