You people have no clue how ready I am to have this baby. I am so done being pregnant, just waiting around. I'm so tired all the time. Feeling her move is still as awesome as ever, probably more so now that she's like a real live borned baby, but what the hay bales do I have to do to make her get out here?!
And, apparently, I've gained too much weight since my previous appointment. Problem is that they gave zero clue where I'm hiding this weight, and everything else is perfect as always, so now I have the fun task of a 24-hour urine test. My uterus measures appropriately, so they aren't even considering that this weight is in the baby. "It's probably because you're tall," they say, "but we'll have you do this test just to check." Okay, great. Now I have even more incentive to have this baby ASAP. Just what I needed, ANOTHER reason to want her out of me.
Don't get me wrong. If the worst thing I have to endure in regards to this pregnancy is collect my pee for 24 hours at 9 months pregnant, I'll take it. But c'mon. This late in the game, they might as well just let it go, because all this does is give me one more thing to try not to stress about.
We've got 1 week and 5 days left until her due date, which basically means we just need to be ready at all times. Our bags are packed and, so far, I've done pretty well keeping my hair at least sorta fixed. (Still heavily relying on "glow".) In my fantasy world, my water breaks after a restful night and a good breakfast. The problem with that is that a restful night is a laughable notion, and a "good breakfast" depends highly on your definitions of "good" and "breakfast".
I've started this new fun thing where I have elaborate and vivid dreams that aren't nightmarish but aren't pleasant. I wake up multiple times during the night to pee (as always) and come back to bed and just sit there. Why? Because I can't sleep. Why? Because life is cruel and sleeping well for even one final night before bringing home a newborn baby would probably be some sort of false comfort, and therefore, a crime.
Unfortunately, this whole post has been one giant complain-fest about how impatient I am. And exhausted. And impatient.
Can I have this baby now?
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