*Warning: Post contains irritable complaints from 38 week pregnant woman sitting in 102 degree weather at 10 in the morning. You've been warned.
Sometimes you need a blue personality to validate you.
My good fried Mel is always good at giving me perspective and helping me realize that, essentially, I'm not all that crazy.
I'm crazy, but just the normal degree. I'm like a level 3 crazy. Not too bad.
Someone posted on my FB status that I was impatient to get my baby out.
Like, what's so different from you and all the other billions of women pooping out babies?
I don't know, but I assume it might have something to do with a good solid month of contractions.
Of worry and stress that he'll come too early.
Then of just not knowing: are these horribly painful and hard contractions doing anything to that gate-keeper of cervixes?
Do we go into the hospital?
Do I risk it and end up pooping the baby out in the car.
Or the laundry room, because that's usually where I am, anyway. (Statistically, it would be the laundry room.)
So, it felt really good to have Mel tell me she went through the exact same thing. Pissy uterus and all. Worry, stress, pain, restless nights, foggy days...
Throw in 118 degree weather and that level 3 crazy isn't looking too shabby. I swear I'm seeing things. The house exploded (didn't I just clean it?) The dishes are multiplying on their own and my laundry is going at it like rabbits.
Hallucinations? I totally think so.
I hate to complain (haahaha! not!) But, I'm so done. Being induced in 5 days does nothing for my sanity. I'm eyeing my crochet hooks with tender love. They could break my bag of waters like nobody's business. In the meantime, I'll walk another 3 miles, brave Saturday morning Costco in Mesa. With 4 million octogenarians telling me a) how absolutely adorable and perfect my children are or b) how absolutely horrible and petrifying my children are. And I will pray my nubs off that I go into labor. Right. Freaking. Now.
(You think this is bad. This is coming after much heart felt prayer, giving all my sense of control over the Lord for him to hold the burden. This is the stuff left over. ;) Or maybe I'm just not that good at letting go of control. Nah...couldn't be that...)