Category Archives: Babies ‘n Stuff

a not-so-brief rant

Posted on by

There’s this weird thing about being home and in bed every day, which is that I feel like I need to post something here every day. I’ve never been a daily blogger before, so I don’t know why I feel the sudden pressure. I think it’s partially because I’m bored, and also because I want to make sure my brain doesn’t atrophy while I’m lying around feeling sorry for myself.

So, ok. We have this grocery store, and I shop there at least once a week. There are two different women who work there who both have young children (like toddler-aged), so they always ask me how I’m doing and commiserate about pregnancy woes and all of that. They’re both polite, they keep the conversation light, they never tell me any horror stories, and as a result, I like both of them.

Then there’s this other woman who works there. Now, I’m guessing that if you’re in your 50’s and you work as the checkout clerk at a grocery store, maybe your life hasn’t gone exactly according to plan? I would think that it probably isn’t a lifelong goal for very many people. I’m not passing judgment on her for what she does, I’m just trying to find an explanation as to why she is such a completely horrible, nasty, bitter person. So far, that’s my best theory.

Way back before I got pregnant, she would lecture me about the items I was buying, which always struck me as wildly inappropriate. I went through a phase last spring where I was obsessed with strawberries and cool whip (because seriously, have you ever tried them together? Heaven.), and she would stand there and tell me about how many chemicals were in cool whip and how horrible it is, and how it screws with your glycemic index, blah blah blah… And, ok. I’m sure she’s right. But is it really necessary to tell your paying customers that they’re making unwise selections? And if she feels that passionately about it, shouldn’t she go work at Whole Foods or someplace like that?

(It’s also worth noting that this woman is, herself, no vision of perfect health. I know she’s a smoker because the lines on her face are that obvious, plus my hyper-sonic pregnant sense of smell has caught more than a slight whiff of tobacco coming off of her. And she’s at least 50 pounds overweight. Again, no judgment, I’m just sayin’.)

I’ve gotten to the point where I will happily stand in a different checkout line for an extra ten minutes if it means I can avoid this woman. But earlier this week, I got stuck. It was one of those deals where the manager came over and said “oh, there’s no waiting on lane 5,” and he literally moved my cart for me over to her line, so I didn’t see how I could object without looking like a freak. Fine. I figured I would just try to keep the conversation as minimal as possible.

Around this time, Baby Girl shifted herself so that she was pressing on a nerve ending, and I had a shooting cramp go down my left inner thigh. This has been happening a lot lately, and the quickest way I know to relieve it (other than immediately sitting down, which isn’t an option at the supermarket) is to shift my weight back and forth. So I was kind of rocking back and forth, from my left foot to my right – almost like a boxer, I guess – and I suppose I must’ve looked sort of strange. Like hey, mind if I boogie down right here to the easy listening Muzak on the intercom? But it’s something I do without thinking too much about, since the alternative is to be in excruciating pain. No thanks.

Anyway, Horrible Woman asked me how I’m holding up, and I was like, “fine, thanks, just trying to get her to change positions in there.” She asked me how much longer I had until my due date, and this was right after my OB appointment on Monday, so I was all happy about the fact that there’s finally an end in sight to this damn pregnancy. So I think my response was along the lines of, “oh, any day now, but if she hasn’t shown up by January 29th, they’re going to induce.” Don’t ask me why I shared that bit of information, it was really stupid on my part.

I don’t remember too much of what came after that, because I think I lost consciousness for a moment when I was sucked into her Swirling Vortex of Negativity. It was basically a tirade against the entire medical community combined with every worst-case childbirth horror story you can possibly imagine. All I really remember hearing is “oh, don’t you dare let them induce you, that’s the worst thing you can do!” And there was also something about, “Don’t get an epidural, my back has never been the same since!” I believe there was also a reference to fecal incontinence, but it’s all a bit hazy. Maybe it was the pain from the cramp in my thigh, but I do believe I might have blacked out for just a second there.

It took every fiber of my being not to scream, “shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!” What kind of person tells these stories to a woman who’s 9 months pregnant? It’s just mean. Not to mention that this woman’s most recent experience with childbirth was twenty years ago (she told me that her youngest child is 19), so really, I don’t think any of her input is all that valid.

The problem is, I don’t know how to tell her to keep her stories to herself without coming off as totally rude. And I’m just not one of those people who can be nasty to someone who I think has a crappy job. (Case in point: a waitress can give me the worst service in the world, and I’ll probably still be nice and leave a decent tip, just because I feel bad for anyone who has to handle other people’s food for a living.) And clearly, avoiding her doesn’t work, since I’ve tried that tactic and it failed. I seriously fear what kind of crazy-assed ravings she’s going to have when I go into the store with a baby.

I’ve thought about anonymously calling the store and telling the management folks that they need to do something about Horrible Woman, or at least tell her to keep her damn opinions to herself while she’s at work. But I don’t know, isn’t getting her in trouble with her boss worse than me saying something to her face? I’ve also thought about just going to our one other grocery store more often, but they don’t have the salad bar with the taboule that I love so much and eat almost every day. What to do? I’m at a loss.  

most peculiar, mama

Posted on by

Today was an odd day for a few reasons. To recap:

1. After I woke up and went to the bathroom, I came back and saw a puddle in our bed, in the general vicinity of where my torso would have been just a few minutes before. It was small, but it was still sort of alarming in that “um, surely if my water broke, I would have noticed, right?” kind of way.

Upon closer inspection, there were signs of cat hair in the puddle. So no, my water didn’t break. It was just Teenie’s obsessive grooming of her winter coat finally catching up with her. Kind of a relief, but still, I hadn’t planned on doing laundry today. So much for that. At least she waited for me to get out of bed and leave the room before she barfed, I suppose that was courteous of her. I don’t even get upset when this kind of thing happens anymore, I just kind of shrug and figure that it’s good practice for when we have a baby in the house.

2. Around 1 a.m. last night (so, technically today), I decided to cut my own bangs. Don’t ask me why, they were just bugging me. About halfway through, I thought of some of the blogs I read and how other women have talked about doing things toward the end of their pregnancies that were totally out of character, which made them think that they had lost their damn minds, and it occurred to me that I was having my own little Crazy Moment. I guess I lucked out (the Hair Gods have smiled upon me), because my bangs look fine today. But I still don’t know what possessed me to try that, since I am not the type of person who should ever be trusted to cut her own hair. And I’m a little paranoid that my stylist is going to notice and comment on them the next time I see her.

3. When I went downstairs for the first time this morning, I saw that my amazing, wonderful, lovable husband had put together the baby’s changing table for me. I started it yesterday and got thoroughly frustrated and left it half-assembled in the dining room. I love that he finished it for me before I woke up, without me asking him to do it. (That doesn’t count toward the number of odd things that happened today, since he does random nice things for me all the time. I just thought it was worthy of a little blog shout-out. Gotta make the other ladies out there jealous, y’know how it is.)

4. I was supposed to have an OB appointment this afternoon, but when I called my old dermatologist’s office about the hives, they were like, “can you come in now? We can squeeze you in.” Right on. The dermatologist’s office is in the same building as my obstetrician, just two floors apart. So hey, why not? Two birds, one stone, etc.

The dermatologist diagnosed my hives as PUPPP, which is apparently a common pregnancy rash. Of course, for most normal pregnant women, the rash starts on the belly and then works its way down the legs. But not me! Oh no, for me it starts on my knees and is working its way up. Because, you know, apparently I like to do all things pregnancy-related completely ass-backwards. I lose weight when I should gain, my rashes spread in the wrong direction, whatever. She gave me a prescription and sent me happily on my way.

5. Because of the last-minute dermatologist appointment, I was about 45 minutes early for my obstetrician. I figured I’d be sitting there for a while, but they actually saw me early and had me out of there in no time. Very cool. It occurred to me, though, that it’s a very odd day when you drop your pants for the dermatologist (since the rash is on my legs), but not for the ob/gyn. (I’m not sure why she didn’t check me today to see if I’d dilated any more. But I was relieved, since having someone see how many fingers they can fit inside your cervix is not exactly the most pleasant sensation in the world.)

Because of my recurring tummy problems, I lost the two pounds that I had gained at my last appointment. It didn’t surprise me, but my OB is now alarmed enough that she brought up the subject of induction (which I tried to talk about last week, and she acted like I was insane). So, the verdict is that if Baby Girl hasn’t made an appearance on her own by January 29th – that’s two weeks from today, folks! – we’re going to induce.

It’s not really that early, since I’ll be in my 39th week then. In fact, it’s only a few days before my February 2nd due date, but my understanding is that under normal circumstances, induction would only be considered if I was more than a week past due. But as I have proven time and again – throughout my entire life as well as this pregnancy – I don’t do normal.

Dave asked if I was happy about the decision to induce, and I honestly am. I know, logically, that pregnancy can’t go on forever, but I’ve been feeling so horrible that it’s been hard to fathom any kind of end in sight. And the fact that my activity has been so restricted because of my energy level has made me feel pretty depressed – I want to get out and do more stuff, I just can’t. I know the risks of induction, but the idea of finally putting an end to my suffering is far more appealing. Of course, I made the mistake of saying to Dave that I’m happy because it feels like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, which made him snicker. Ok, fine. I suppose a light at the end of my birth canal is more appropriate. Ha.

6. Oh yeah, today is also the last day that I get to call myself 30. I turn 31 tomorrow. It’s funny, I’ve been so preoccupied with literal birth days (as in giving birth) that I’ve hardly thought about my own. I might’ve forgotten it altogether if Kris hadn’t emailed me a couple of weeks ago asking what I want to do to celebrate. To which I said: nothing, please. I might send Dave to fetch some nice take-out for dinner, but that’s enough. I did the big party thing last year, and 31 is not some major landmark number, so I’m fine with leaving it at that.

P.S. That subject line is a reference to some John Lennon song that my mom likes to quote/sing. Random, I know.

just take me out back and shoot me

Posted on by

Hypothetical situation: say you’re nine months pregnant. And that for the past two months, you’ve had some kind of weird stomach ailment that… for lack of a nicer way of putting it… gave you “the trots” several times a day. (There. I said it. I’ve been alluding to this stomach bug for ages, but that’s what it is. I know Dave is recoiling in horror right now, because we generally do not discuss Bathroom Issues in our house, ever. But I’m tired of trying to be genteel and use euphemisms, so there you have it. Call it my big Dooce epiphany, I have finally written about poop on my website.)

Ok, so say you had this stomach thing, but it seemed to be getting better for the most part – after many, many doctor visits and prescription drugs. And then one night, your husband is out of town, and you’re trying to figure out what to have for dinner. And you remember that your husband hates all forms of shellfish, and generally can’t even stand to be in the same room with you if you’re eating it, so you figure what the hell? Let’s have some crab!

So, you go to the grocery store, where you can buy a whole, fresh, pre-cooked dungeness crab – and the seafood counter guys will even crack it for you! So all you have to do when you get home is melt the butter, and you can just pull out the crab meat with your hands! Awesome, right? So you’re all excited about your crab dinner, and you get it home, melt the butter, set the table, and then you realize that the crab smells… slightly off. Not bad, exactly. Just a bit more “fishy” than a genuinely fresh crab should smell like. But you taste a tiny bite, and it’s totally fine. And the texture seems ok too. (Because seriously, with crab, that’s the first sign that something is amiss, isn’t it? When it gets that weird spongy texture?) 

And let’s not forget that you’re tired as hell (because, remember? Pregnant and having stomach problems!), and you don’t really feel like driving back to the store to return the crab, or figuring out some alternative meal for dinner. So you’re faced with the dilemma: to eat the crab, or not eat the crab?

If you should ever find yourself in this situation, take a tip from someone who’s been there: DON’T EAT THE CRAB. It will only make your slightly-recuperated gastrointestinal tract revert right back to its former “what the hell?” status, and you will spend the next several days in severe pain and discomfort.

So. That’s pretty much a summary of my life right now. And to continue my whine-fest, here are some other things that are making my life miserable and/or generally irritating the hell out of me:

1. The hives, y’all. The hiiiiiives.

They itch like poison ivy, and they’re driving me insane. (Side note: my foot was originally in this picture, and I was going to leave it like that to show off my pretty pedicure from last week. Then I decided that the whole Internet doesn’t really need to see just how puffy my ankles have become, so I cropped it. Also, do you know how hard it is to take a picture of the outside of your own leg? Turns out, it’s pretty challenging.)

2. That Baby Girl has apparently settled herself on a nerve ending, so I keep having shooting cramps down my left inner thigh that literally take my breath away. Baths have become my new favorite thing (thanks for the suggestion, Cat!) because it’s the only way I get some relief. I guess the weight of the water makes her float and relieves some of the pressure on my hips. I’m now taking baths at least once a day.

3. The cats. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but they haven’t been able to go outside because of the snow, so they’re getting all cabin fever-y and acting up (jumping onto tables where they know they aren’t allowed, knocking things over, etc.). And our one boy kitty, Beaumont, apparently has picked up on some kind of Mommy Pheromone coming off of me, because I cannot get him to leave me alone. It’s sweet when he wants to cuddle, but not so sweet when he tries to hurtle himself under my feet as I’m walking (usually downstairs). I’ve issued quite a few death threats against him recently. So far, he seems unaffected by my harsh language.

4. My attention span. Or lack thereof, I should say. Which sucks, since these days my life is pretty much restricted to web-surfing and watching TV. It’s impossible for me to follow a movie plot. Case in point: Dave rented “The Black Dahlia,” because I mentioned that I wanted to see it, and if you asked me afterward, I would’ve sworn that it was some kind of eight-hour epic that should’ve been broken down as a mini-series. Y’all, it was 121 minutes long. Two hours and one measly minute. And it nearly killed me. It’s gotten to the point where I have a hard time even following the Daily Show (and it is a sad, sad day when Jon Stewart can’t make me laugh). I’m now pretty much just watching “Friends” or “Everybody Loves Raymond” reruns. Pathetic.

5. Most commercials, although one in particular – the new Match.com ads. Last night, the sound of Dr. Phil’s voice made me throw my head back and groan so violently that Dave thought I was having a contraction. (I’m sorry if there are any Dr. Phil fans reading this, but I absolutely despise the man. I want him to just. go. away.)

6. This post from Shannon, which makes me remember that of course I am incredibly grateful to be pregnant, and happy that our baby seems to be healthy and thriving (even if the same can’t be said for her mother). It just sucks that there are so many people out there who would be amazing parents – or who already are amazing parents, and would continue to be amazing with their future children – and that the universe/God/whatever can sometimes seem totally arbitrary and unfair in deciding who gets to have babies and who doesn’t. This also applies to one of my very dear friends who’s just starting to undergo fertility treatments with her husband, after they’ve been trying to get pregnant for over a year with no success.

I realize there are bigger injustices in the world, I just don’t understand how the world can work in such a way where we have idiots like this who seem to have no problem reproducing, while so many families – who are completely full of love, and who could provide a safe, supportive environment for a child to grow up in – are presented with challenge after challenge when they try. It’s not fair, and it just flat-out blows.  

happy day

Posted on by

Very, very good news: Dave is flying home today! A whole entire day early! Hoooray!!!

He told his boss that I was showing “early signs” – which I suppose is true if you count all of these Braxton-Hicks contractions that I’ve been having like crazy for the past few days – and his boss agreed that Dave should be home. (I believe his words were, “I really don’t want your wife to hate me for the rest of your career.” Ha.) Honestly, I’m not sure if all of these little contractions are a sign that anything is happening at all, but I know they were making Dave (and me) nervous. I’ll feel much better having him nearby.

Not-so-good news: We got somewhere close to 6 inches of snow last night. We didn’t lose power, so I really have nothing to complain about, I’m just a bit nervous about the fact that I’m about to have to get in my car and drive to the airport to pick Dave up. I’m not so worried about myself – I’ve lived in snowy climates before (hello, Worcester, Massachusetts! I hated living in your city!), and I feel pretty safe with my little Subaru’s four wheel-drive. I just worry about other people on the roads, because Seattleites aren’t famous for being great drivers.

Last night I was supposed to go meet up with the girls for dessert, which I was really looking forward to. Just a chance to get out of the house for an hour or two and remind myself of the good old days when I felt like normal, functional human being, you know? We ended up cancelling our get-together because of the snow, which was probably wise. But still, kind of a bummer.

Later that night, I was talking to my mom and she said, “So, if you go into labor right now, when you’re alone and it’s snowing out, you DO know to call an ambulance to come get you and that you shouldn’t try to drive yourself, right?” Um, thanks, Mom! I hadn’t even thought of that possibility until you mentioned it! Now I think I might put 911 on speed dial, just in case. Sheesh.

But seriously, I was thinking about how insane this winter has been: the flood in November, the windstorm last month, and now this snowstorm. (I know six inches of snow doesn’t seem like much to most people, but it’s practically unheard of in this part of the country.) I just can’t imagine what’s next. What do y’all think, locusts or frogs? Maybe we should have people start placing bets now.

(Another quote from my mom, ever the optimist: “Hey, at least it hasn’t started raining blood yet!” Um, yeah! Ok then. We’ll send up three cheers for the one plague we’ve managed to avoid so far.)

I did take a lot of photos of the snow this morning, because it was really beautiful. (I’m very conflicted about the white stuff: I love it as long as I can stay home and not go anywhere. If I have to drive in it? I’m not so much feeling the love anymore.) But I’ll get the pictures uploaded after I get back from retrieving my husband from the airport.

Aside to Shannon: Tell Gaby she can bloody well have all of our snow that she wants. It’s only January and I am so over winter. I’m ready for spring.  

Update: Snow pictures are here. (Or you can click the photo below and go to the set.)

Also, Dave is now home. I’m happy.

you have GOT to be kidding me

Posted on by

More bad weather?? I don’t know if God is trying to test my sense of humor or what, but this cannot be happening. I’m trying really hard to think of it as “oh, the stories we’ll have to tell Baby Girl about the last few weeks before she was born!”, but it’s really hard to think in those terms when you’re in the middle of it.

We had a windstorm blow through here this afternoon, and (of course!) our power went out. I had gotten an email from Cara yesterday inviting me to crash with her & Scott in Seattle if that happened, which was very sweet of her, although I do wonder how many of those post-root canal painkillers she’s been taking. (Seriously, who in their right mind invites cranky, hormonal, weepy 9-months-pregnant women to stay in their homes?) And Kris called to remind me that I have a key to her apartment, in case I needed to let myself in while she was still at work. So I had some options. But when I called the power company to report the outage, they promised that they had already dispatched a crew to work on the problem. It was still early evening, and it wasn’t that cold (yet), so I decided to take a nap on the couch and wait for a while before making any decisions about what I was going to do.

Our cat Beaumont curled up against my belly while I was lying on my side, and he has this weird asthmatic purr that he does every 10 seconds or so. (It’s such an odd sound, like he needs to clear his throat.) But since he was leaning against my stomach, he’d do his little purr thing and then I’d feel a little kick-kick-kick response from the baby. I thought it was funny – like “get used to the sound of cats, kiddo, because you’re going to be hearing them a LOT.” So I was enjoying the little “conversation” that the cat and baby were having with each other, and I guess the rhythm of it must have eventually put me to sleep. The next thing I knew, I heard the auto-scooping litter box start up in the laundry room, and I opened my eyes and saw that the lights were back on. 

So, our power was only out for about two hours total. Not too shabby. Certainly a heck of a lot easier to cope with than nine freakin’ days.

But right now it’s snowing out, so who knows how much longer my good fortune will hold out. If nothing else, I expect that I’ll probably lose my Internet access after too much snow accumulates on the satellite dish. I know how to get the extension ladder and use a broom to brush the snow off the dish, of course. I’m just not sure if I’m up to it. Or if it’s even advisable for me to be scaling ladders at this point.

Oh, and I postponed my doctor’s appointment until Thursday. I was exhausted, I knew the bad weather was approaching, and the idea of sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room two days in a row was quite honestly too much for me. I haven’t even decided if I’m going to go the appointment on Thursday, or if I’m just going to resign myself to the idea of feeling like crap until this baby comes out. We’ll see.

day two; or, (sigh)

Posted on by

Good news: I’ve gained two pounds. It’s not really all that surprising, since my last doctor’s visit was before Christmas, and I didn’t exactly hold back over the holidays. But I suppose I ought to send a thank-you note to the fine folks over at Honey Baked Ham for those two little pounds.

Not so good news: I’ve dilated about 3/4 of a centimeter. Pitiful.

My OB said that between my ongoing stomach issues and the fact that I’m now breaking out in hives – oh wait, did I forget to mention that? Yep, giant itchy red hives all over my legs, lucky me! – she thought that another visit to my primary care doctor was in order. So I have an appointment this afternoon, even though just the idea of getting dressed to go is making me want to crawl back in bed and take a nice long nap.

It’s frustrating because I don’t know what my primary care doc can do, other than what she did last time, which was basically stare at me, shrug, and pass me off to yet another specialist.

My OB keeps insisting that all of these symptoms can’t possibly be pregnancy-related, but since nothing like this has ever happened to me until now, I have my doubts. I asked her just how sick I have to get before they decide to induce, because I’m seriously starting to wonder how much longer I can stand this. She said that if I went into labor on my own at this point, they wouldn’t try to stop it, since I’m basically full-term. But they wouldn’t induce me for at least another two or three weeks. Which I suppose is responsible of her, but god, I thought I was going to cry when she said that.

Oh, and just in case I didn’t have enough on my mind right now, I apparently also have to replace the car seat that I bought, since it was one of the majority that failed the latest round of crash tests. There were only two that passed the side-impact crash tests, and guess what? You can’t find them anywhere around here. I can’t even find a website where I can order one online and have it here in less than two weeks. Faaaabulous.

the first day on my own

Posted on by

I dropped Dave off at the airport yesterday afternoon. I hadn’t realized that he was flying out on Sunday so he could be there bright and early on Monday morning. I guess it’s logical. But it means he’ll actually be gone for five nights rather than four. FIVE! It all equals doom, I tell you!

And of course, as soon as I got home from the trip to the airport, I managed to have a total freak-out session. I had crawled back in bed when I got home (part of my self-imposed bedrest; which is not so much my idea, but more of a necessity because I don’t do too well when I’m out of bed for more than two hours at a time). While I was lying down, I got a weird feeling that was sort of like menstrual cramps. Hmmm. Seems like I’ve read this symptom before, yes? Oh wait, that’s right: every single freakin’ pregnancy book under the freakin’ sun describes early labor as feeling like menstrual cramps. Heck, even my cousin described it like that. And at that precise moment, Dave was probably on a plane somewhere over Oregon. Do I have phenomenal timing or what?

(Note: I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks contractions like crazy for the past few days. This was noticeably different, believe me.)

Just to be safe, I checked the clock next to the bed. It was 2:58 p.m. The cramp-like feeling passed after about a minute. I had the same crampy feeling again 12 minutes later, at 3:10. Then… nothing. Na-da. Lots of baby kicks and dancing, and my hips still ached and I had weird shooting pains down my inner thighs, which is basically what the past couple of weeks have been like for me. But no more crampy contraction things. So ok, that’s good. As much as I would like to get this kid out of me, I would definitely prefer that it happen when Dave is around. 
 
Later that afternoon, my cat Teenie managed to totally freak me out too. When I’m in bed, she generally wants to cuddle up near me, but then she goes to sleep. Her favorite spot is in the little nook between my pillow & Dave’s; I suppose it’s an ideal location to be petted by two people rather than just one. But she’s an old lady cat (she’ll be eleven this year!), so she doesn’t have the super playful kitten energy anymore. Once she’s settled, she’s out. She might occasionally wake up to give herself a bath, or to go get some food. When she comes back to bed, she’ll usually purr for a minute or so while she gets herself re-settled, but that’s about it.

But no. Yesterday? She stood next to me, totally staring at me for a very long time (like 20-30 minutes), purring very loudly at me, and she’d occasionally lift one paw and sort of rest it on my arm. As totally bizarre and out-of-character as the little paw-pat was (like she was trying to reassure or comfort me), it was actually the staring that freaked me out more than anything. She was boring her eyes into me like that little terrier Eddie did to Frasier. It was creepy. I felt like she was trying to tell me something. It seemed as though I was on an old episode of “Lassie”. What is it, girl? Is Timmy stuck down in the well? Do I need to call my ob/gyn?

It was totally bizarre. My mom says she thinks animals pick up on “those types of things” (whatever that means), so maybe she was giving me a sign that I’m going to go into labor sometime this week. I’m not kidding, that’s totally my mom’s theory. Nevermind any of the symptoms I’ve told her about, it was only when I told her the story about the cat that she was all, “Well, that seals it. I guess I need to start keeping the phone ringer turned on when I go to bed, just in case you need to call at 4 a.m. to tell me that I have a grandbaby.”

Although you know, assuming my labor takes long enough for Dave to fly home, the idea of having the baby this week is quite honestly fine with me. I’m not anywhere near being done with my to-do list, but seriously? I am so over this whole pregnancy thing.

So please, send me happy “dilation and effacement” vibes for my OB appointment this afternoon. I’ll update again when I know more.