Almost there!

This past week has been agonizing.

I'm officially a week away from my due date, and it's all I can think about. I've had a couple of good days, ones where I've actually finished all the laundry in one shot or gotten all my Christmas shopping done, but most days I'm so tired that it seems like all I do is sleep. And when I am awake, I agonize about all the sleeping I'm doing.

When I mention to someone that I can't understand why I'm so unbelievably tired, they just laugh and point out my midsection. Ha ha. But this is frightening tired, like all of a sudden I have to just sleep. And then I'm out not for 20 minutes or an hour, but three, four hours.

And I'm still tired.

The reason this worries the most: Will I have the stamina for childbirth?

I guess I can't possibly sleep through it, but it sure would be more pleasant if I were better equipped, mentally and physically.

I've been having contractions since before Thanksgiving, but every time I go to the doctor, it's the same thing: half a centimeter dilated. Half a centimeter. Half a centimeter...

Knowing how hard it was to evict Zoe, I dread another episode of that. She was 11 days late and put me in labor for 33 hours. My friends point out that most second babies come earlier and easier. Yeah, if this one is nine days late and only 24 hours worth of labor, that's still earlier and easier!!

I had to take the end of last week off work. I went in on Wednesday and was immediately sobbing at my desk. Why, I don't know. I just kept telling myself that it was time to stop crying. "Self, time to stop crying," I kept saying. But I didn't listen. I didn't think I'd go back this coming week, but I'm going to give it a shot. I think I've given my boss a pretty good indication of my precarious mental state, so if the time comes to throw in the towel on a paycheck, I'll have done my best.



I had this brilliant idea to cook Christmas dinner for 10 people so I wouldn't have to take the baby out of the house. Just Joe's parents and brother, and my father and siblings. First I got my sister to agree to help me, then Joe's mom got on board with turkey and lasagna. Then my sister tells me tonight that my dad doesn't want to come (and I don't understand why I have to always hear shit like this through my sister) so she's not coming either. And she didn't feel like cooking for all those people anyway.

Gee, thanks guys. I really wasn't putting myself out by preparing a feast a week after popping a kid out, so no big deal. I was actually thinking that I'd rather drag a brand new baby out into the cold and into Dad's cigar-smoke-filled house, so this works out so much better. I'll bring my sitz bath on the off chance I'm a wee bit uncomfortable.

OK, sarcasm aside... I'm just going to cook. And whoever shows up, shows up, and I ain't gonna worry about it. "Self, don't worry about it," I'll keep saying.

Maybe I'll listen.

God, sometimes I miss Florida so much!!!