Small Discovery
Did you know that it doesn’t matter how hard you click the unlock button on your car clicker thingee. It doesn’t matter how much you curse at it. It doesn’t matter how much you stare at your front door and try the lock. The car clicker WILL NOT open your front door.
Nor should it.
But I’m a crazy pregnant lady who lost her mind sometime in February. I’m really hoping to get it back one day.
My sister called today because she has decided we are friends. I suppose that’s good. I like hearing about her kids. She had some dandy advice for me: “Just call the doctor and tell him you want an induction tomorrow.” What reality does the girl live in? I know she called her doctor and told him that just about every day of the last month of her pregnancy and it never did her any good. I don’t know why she thinks it would work with me. Not that I would want to just call up and order an induction. I prefer doctors that tell me what to do, not the other way around. Though I spend lots of time with Dr. Google when I don’t feel well, I am smart enough to know I don’t have actual medical credentials. That’s why I go to a doctor–for an expert opinion. I did not enjoy the doctor in Sweden looking at me with helpless eyes and asking what I thought was wrong with me. Even though I was convinced I had a liver baby* I knew I was insane and wasn’t about to tell the doctor my theory.
At any rate, I know I don’t want to be induced unless it is medically necessary. From what I’ve read it just makes labor a lot longer and can be a lot more painful than regular labor. I still have 10 days to my due date, so I’ll just try to chill out and quit waiting for labor to happen. I PROMISED myself that I would not get antsy about the birth until the due date. I PROMISED myself that I would not become convinced that the boy would be early. I promised myself I’d exhibit patience. HA! That promise went out the window the day I discovered milk leaking from my nipples. I’m not the most patient person in the world on my best day, so when it feels like I have an alien trying to kick his way out of my belly I tend to think he should COME OUT NOW.
I think I may have created a mess of a dinner, but it won’t be possible to tell for a couple of hours. I was going to make some really yummy Chicken Gillepsie, one of our favorite meals (thanks Sandy!), but that seemed like way too much work. Instead, I pulled out the crockpot and started throwing random things in it–cream of chicken soup, sage, thyme, pepper, chicken broth, fake basmati rice, parmesan cheese and chicken tenders. I guess it can’t really turn out bad but there it’s certainly not going to be gourmet. Of course, these days a slab of cheddar on a piece of whole grain bread is about as gourmet as it gets. Maybe some day I’ll be back in the mode of menu making and cooking good, healthy meals. The year 2012 sounds like a good goal.
I can’t believe my mom is going to be here in exactly one week! I’m so excited to see her, yet nervous about what we’re going to do with her for two and a half weeks. She’s very high energy. We are not. Maybe she’ll figure out a way to save my pansies. She likes flowers. Murphy’s Law dictates that I will go into labor a few hours before her arrival, and then what will we do? I guess we’ll tell her to get a cab to the hospital. The only glitch: she has no cell phone.
I was just reading over an old post of mine, seeing if I could find a succinct version of the Liver Baby story and I couldn’t. The post was completely nonsensical though, which is embarrassing. I seem to have a problem using the word I mean to use. One of these years I might take up proof-reading as a hobby. It would probably drastically improve my writing.
*The liver baby story: Back in 2003 I started having really bad pains in my side and didn’t know what was wrong. It turned out to be gall stones, but I would joke around that I had an embryo that got loose and had attached itself to my liver. No, I don’t know much about human anatomy.