The Waiting Game

My due date is tomorrow.

I really believed, for what ever reason, that this baby would want to come out early. But here we are, one day before “the day”. Is anything happening? According to the doctor, as of Wednesday, no. Of course, that being the case, they wanted to induce me tomorrow. I did not agree to that, I feel like Patrick should be able to pick his own day, or at least get reasonably close to that day before we start to intervene. Either way, I’m really trying to send him a telepathic eviction notice.

TIme’s up, buddy!

My usually sharp instincts have been off this last month or so. Probably longer. This is not helping in the “delivery decisions” department. I doubt myself on the simplest things, so big things are just out of the scope of trying to figure out.  I just hope Patrick has stolen all my decision making powers and will use them. Preferably this week sometime.

“Should I come out now, or later…. hmmm…. decisions, decisions.”

IN THE MEANTIME… it’s old wives tales city. “Go for walks!” “Bounce on a ball!” “Jump rope!” (omg, with these feet?  I don’t think so! I might crash through the floor!) My friend Angela said today, “Pedicure!”  Ha! Now there’s one I don’t care if it works or not! I totally went for one. I really needed it. I haven’t been able to do anything to my feet for a couple of weeks now. My pinky toenail was snaggly and painful and I couldn’t really fix it myself. I’ve still been working and preparing for this huge life event. Haven’t really had time for a treat. But I did it today, and now my toes are delivery room ready! I’m sure the nurses and doctors care.

“She’s got good lookin’ toenails?”
“Ok, all systems go!”

After that, the husband and I walked down to the pool. I was hoping some swimming might get things moving. We were in the pool over an hour and it’s the best I’ve felt this entire pregnancy. I felt like myself again. No limitations. Could swim just fine! And my shot on the water basketball hoop was just fine also!

I thought breast stroke would be the most inducing of all the strokes with the frog kick and whatnot, though I did try a little butterfly, because the dolphin kick seems like it might be pretty effective also. Butterfly did not last long! Just a few strokes. Patrick was like, “What the heck are you doing?”  He was moving around a lot as I swam, walked, bounced, and attempted to float. Floating was hilarious. On a regular non-pregnant day, I could float forever. But with this massive ball o’ baby weighing me down, it was a real effort to get my toes out of the water. It became like an awkward synchronized swimming move just to keep myself afloat.

Yeah, this lady’s not getting her toes out of the water either. I don’t feel so bad!

Now, with all my new-found water energy, there was nothing like the reality of getting out of the pool and realizing my true weight again. UGH. How quickly we forget. I felt like I was carrying cinder block in my bathing suit. Walking home was not fun. It’s a really long and steep hill, and was fast making me feel like I might die. We made it home though, I crashed on the couch while my husband foraged some Mexican food for us to eat. While he was gone, my stomach tightened up a lot, and has not really gone back to normal. Is this a contraction? I have no idea. I just ate my Mexi-food with tons of hot sauce.

Unfortunately, I think Patrick is fine with spicy foods as I’ve been eating it all along. I need to find something he doesn’t like.

So now what? I’m scheduled to work tomorrow…. it’s a short shift, so I suppose that’s what I’ll be doing. Just keep on keeping on.

Wooden Puppet Boy or Real, Live Boy?

Walking the line of dreams and reality

My dreams have been nothing short of pretty amazing for as long as I can remember. They have always been vivid, colorful and realistic, and I’ve always been able to remember them in great detail. Pregnancy has only enhanced all of that. The only difference is that my dreams, especially in the 1st trimester, didn’t really have much to do with me. Going to sleep was like watching action movies all night, with a cast of character of oddball “dream people”. I should have been writing them down, but really, I had no energy upon waking after all the action.

In the last  few weeks, I’ve been getting my dreams back to myself. Of course, they are back to their own zaniness and very realistic. Just last week I dreamed that the baby was coming. I was in the hospital and my OB was there. For some reason I was calling her by her first name, which I definitely do not do, and I was telling her, “He’s coming out…. I think he’s coming out!” She was still washing up, “I’m coming, I’m coming!” For some reason I had this blue towel wrapped around me, and sure enough, something was moving inside it. She opened the towel, “Well how about that! Here he is!”  I looked down to see what he looked like.

He was a Wooden Puppet Boy. Not unlike Pinocchio.

Yes, the Pinocchio from Shrek. I guess this is go with my Shrek-like feet.

He was moving around a little, but he was a Wooden Puppet Boy. I said, “Is he SUPPOSED to look like this? She assured me it was TOTALLY normal. Even “dream me” wasn’t buying it. Thank goodness I woke up, because really, it was kind of terrifying.

Now, I know that this means that I’ve still not come to terms with the realness of this whole thing. It’s all very hard to wrap my brain around. It all happens so gradually. At first, before I could feel him, it wasn’t real at all.  The baby got bigger and bigger, moving around and whatnot, which definitely makes it much more real than no movement,  but I don’t think it will be totally real to me until I see him with my own eyes.

I told my OB about the Wooden Puppet Boy dream at my appointment following the dream. She died laughing. I said, “Hopefully it will be a real live boy, and not a puppet!”

All I know is that I ache all over. Every moment of every day. My feet are permanently swollen and feel bruised, my sciatic nerve is in full effect, my ribs- ouch. The very fact that I’m carrying 25-30 extra pound in one concentrated spot is insane to me. I suppose my body is holding up pretty well, considering. I know it could be worse. But bending is pretty much over. Climbing my stairs at home (granted, they are the steepest stairs of all time) is becoming harder with every passing day. I don’t like feeling like I’m in a weakened condition.

My steep-ass stairs.

And meanwhile, little Patrick is in there doing his own thing. Making more room for himself, regardless. He has no idea that his feet don’t belong underneath my ribs, so I can’t hold it against him. He’s just doing what he’s supposed to be doing, and really, I’m thankful for that.

So a few days ago, I had another dream. I had the baby and he was, in fact, a real, live boy. He was very cute and I even got to see a fast-forward of him when he was little older. He was only about a year, but he was talking (I wish I could remember what he was saying!).  Upon waking, it did make it a little more real. I’m glad I didn’t end on the note of Wooden Puppet Boy before actually going into labor. I can’t say I wouldn’t be a little worried at that moment when they announce the baby. “It’s a………puppet!” (Somebody wake me up!)

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