Beached Seals & Rabid Wolves

This is me being done. 

I know you are 100% so sick and tired of hearing me whine, but guys, I am so done. I have finally reached that point in pregnancy where I am this close to yanking this baby out myself. I know this is mostly from the sleep exhaustion as this week has marked the first where I have gotten maybe 3-4 hours of sleep per night. I am able to sleep for about 45 minutes- 1 hour stretches and then I wake up and take about 30 minutes to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep.  When I sleep on my side, the enormous pressure of my son cuts off circulation to my hips and lower limbs. He also has a freaking panic attack and kicks wildly at my side until I roll over. When I finally roll over to the other side, he waits about 10 minutes before freaking out again on that side. And, of course, when I fall asleep on my back I wake up 5 minutes later feeling like as if I am drowning. When I finally give up (usually around 5am), I get to spend an hour massaging my aching sides after mistakenly taking the pain for possible contractions. I then spend the day in a semi-zombie trance looking disturbingly how I feel.

Am I being dramatic? Undoubtedly. Have I reached a point where I don’t care? You bet your bottom dollar.  I know this is excellent training for the months ahead, but I was a little bit hoping to actually stock up on some sleep before it becomes the world’s most precious commodity. I also cannot imagine how rockin labor is going to be when I get to enter it with as little sleep as I am getting. Awesome. 

On another note, all of Sel’s family will be arriving in T-town a week from today. I have been so majorly excited for their arrival for the past few months until recently where I realized I could very well still be pregnant when they all get here.  Or I could be in the hospital the whole time they are here. Oh AND Sel leaves for Utah in 14 days which could leave me still pregnant because I am pretty sure this baby is not coming until December at the earliest. My doctor has told me he is totally set to induce me July 21^st, but I have zero desire to be induced.  He luckily won’t force my uterus until August 1^st unless Rowboat shows signs that he is not thriving in there anymore. I bet some of you are all, dude, stop complaining and just get induced. I applaud all the women of the world who have the lady balls to brave Pitocin, but I am not brave enough yet to enter your ranks.

I know I am one lucky duck to have made it this far and carried a healthy baby. I also know that babies come when they are supposed to or on their birthday or yadayadayada .  That is super great of you to say whilst you are over there being not 41 weeks pregnant. (If you are 41+ weeks pregnant and feel this way, you dear friend, are completely justified in giving me a pep talk on patiently waiting for my child. I would also welcome any tactics you are currently employing to not go batty in your present condition). I yo-yo pretty much every hour from being eternally grateful and rational to being a crazy woman. I bet you can’t guess what part of the yo-yo I am on right now.

Finally, to all the amazing people of the world who are super excited for us and keep texting/calling to ask if the baby is here yet…I love you times a hundred for being pumped for us, but I swear if you ask me one more time, I will train a rabid pack of wild wolves (think Hunger Games style) to encircle your home for the next millennium. I will then text or call you everyday to ask if you have figured out a way to escape your confinement and try to hide my disappointment that you have failed at a task that is obviously very easy to overcome.  If we are close enough for you to ask me everyday for baby updates, you are someone I love and care enough about to tell when this kid finally leaves my womb.  And to the well meaning acquaintances who exclaim “Still pregnant, eh?” when you see me,  I also mostly love you, but instead could you please exclaim “Still sexy and svelte, eh?” or “Way to still be out and about attempting to live life instead of pouting at your house and eating tubs of ice-cream…eh?”.  Finally, if anyone would like to offer comfort to Sel, it would be much appreciated because he is going almost as crazy as I am. He has gotten to the point where every two hours he asks if I have felt anything. And every two hours I get to disappoint him by telling him no. 

Imagine 20 of these surrounding your home. Except more vicious looking with foam and bald spots. 

P.S. I will actually be “unplugging” until this baby gets here. So please don’t be offended if I don’t answer your phone calls, texts, or emails. It’s not you, it’s the chubby weakling over here who you would want to punch in the face for being Wendy Whiner if you did actually get a hold of me.

P.S.S My mom just told me my whole birth story and I am now starting to understand why this baby is not here yet. Karma, y'all. Straight up karma.