Jessie was complaining the other day that it had been a long time since I had written a rant-blog.  Although I have literally thousands of things about which I could rant right now (just watch the news!), I really don’t feel like it.  I really don’t feel like giving more attention to inept celebrities who consider their existence on this planet to mean more than what it actually is.  I really don’t want to express my horror in any sort of detail at how horrible people can be.  I’m trying to be happy right now.  I’m trying to enjoy my otherworldly calm about my impending life change.  I’ll have millions of things about which to rant after my son is born.  I promise I’ll get right on it after I explain how truly terrible childbirth really is, because if you’re going to hear the truth about it from anybody, it will be from me.

OK!  So poor miss Aschlie had to go through some torture at the hands of a horrible doctor and I feel for her!  My appointment was yesterday.  My doctor is really awesome, she can totally tell that I am sick to death of being pregnant, so she warned me that we were going to get to that cervix dammit and while we were in the process of destroying my innards, she was going to strip my membranes in the hopes that it would get things moving along.  So I’m lying on the table, stripped from the waist down, and she tells me to make fists and put them under my butt to get a better angle.  I try really really hard not to tense and try to find my happy place.  I never have a gay-assed picture of a meadow with stupid birds or anything when I go to a happy place.  My happy place is a large quiet room where I am alone and reading old tomes.  I was almost there, almost sitting in the old wingback chair when it was shattered by horrifying pain.  She had found my cervix, and apparently it is very far back because I would have bet that her fingers would have popped out of my butt if she moved them down just a touch.  She is obviously excited that she actually found it and she warns me that she’s getting ready to strip the membranes.  Heaven help me, that fucking hurt!  No, let me rephrase that.  It DID hurt, but it was such an unbelievably unpleasant feeling that I ended up making a weird squeaking noise.  “Almost done,”  she kept saying, but it seemed to last for friggin ever!  The doctor leaves my body and excitedly tells me that there has defintely been a change since last week and I am two centimeters.  I have another appointment at the buttcrack of dawn on Monday where she’ll check me again and schedule an induction, but she told me not to be surprised if I go into labor on my own before then.  Needless to say, I’m pretty excited.  I’ll be a mom in less than a week people!

My stomach is hurting right now, so I’m going to go pace around for a while and see if it goes away or brings about something else.  I mostly wanted to blog to let you guys know that I am still pregnant, not a mom yet.  Almost done.

This waiting game is waaay harder on Jessie than it is me.  This is mostly because I’m stuck in La La Land where I’m not always 100% lucid, but Jessie has to leave me here alone every day to go to work.  Last night was a bad night for me and I just didn’t sleep.  When he got up and left for work this morning, I watched the news until I was sure I would finally be able to get some sleep, so at 1:30, when I hadn’t gotten online to talk to him yet, he started worrying and called me.  I’m finding it very cute right now.  He is convinced that I’m not going to tell him I’m in labor untl after I’ve given birth to the kid in the bathtub.  I dunno why…I would tell him way before then…like when I noticed the head hanging out or something.

Jessie is just also a bit of a worrier.  Twice this weekend I was convinced for about an hour that I was in labor for real, but it just turned out to be false labor.  I would tell Jessie this, and he’d quietly sit on the couch and freak out.  Every time I even fidgeted uncomfortably he’d look at me in alarm and ask if I was in pain.  Again, this was really cute, but it might be good advice to him at this point that if he’s going to do that when I’m actually in labor, he might want to hide anything sharp or pointy so I will not be tempted to maul him.

On a completely unrelated note, it cracks me up when people say or write “effing”.  It reminds me of when we were little and we’d spell out cuss words so we wouldn’t get in trouble.  I’m not afraid of dropping a good ol’ F Bomb, and I guess that makes me a vulgar wretch, but I still find it hilarious that people try to cushion the whole fuck thing.  It’s not “Oh you fucking idiot!”  It’s “Oh you effing idiot!”  and that is just funny as fuck!

Doctor’s appointment was today.  The nurse kept making comments and hand gestures showing how horrified she is at how big I am.  She also refused to believe me when I told her I had been a little grumpy lately……she said I just didn’t have a face for it…LMAO….if only she knew.  The doctor also made a few comments about my copious belly.  Then she checked my cervix……or tried to.  I had told her about the daily contractions and she assured me that there HAD to have been a change by now so she violates my poor nether regions, causing me to squirm and say “OW!” a couple times.  In the end, she couldn’t get to my cervix.  Her excuse was that Lukas’ head is so low she just kept jabbing his head and that if she had to go the angle to get to my cervix to feel if I’m dilated, I’d be screaming.  I’m glad I could fore go the screaming, but I’m left asking myself how the hell I’m supposed to get a kid out of there with all the hoo hoo complications I seem to be having…being tilted and…well…..petite.  I kind of half hope that labor makes the thing open up like the Lincoln Tunnel and the little creep can just walk out with minimal damage to my tender bits.  I’ll just keep thinking that.  Lincoln Tunnel.  Yeah.  The doctor tried to make an effort to keep me from screaming by saying “you might be one centimeter!”  That totally didn’t help!  How the hell are they supposed to keep track of this when I’m in labor?!?  Ugh.

On the upside, I only have two weeks left at the most.  My last weekly appointment is next Thursday and if all is still the same, she’ll make an appointment to have me induced that next week, so I won’t be going over.  I don’t really want to be induced because I have read/heard some really terrible horror stories about it, but I also don’t want to be pregnant forever so I’ll do what I have to do .  People are wondering if I’m more anxious to not be pregnant anymore or to have my baby and I’ll enlighten you.  It’s both.  I really want my body back, but I am also REALLY excited to meet my son and finally hold him in my arms.  I can’t wait to look in his face and see a little bit of me and a little bit of Jessie.

I mostly just wanted to blog to keep everybody informed that I am still pregnant and looking like I’ll be this way for a bit longer.  Thanks for all the well-wishing, and I’ll keep you guys in mind when I change the first poopy diaper.  You get that honor!