Ok, I am done. Totally, 100%, unequivocally DONE WITH THIS PREGNANCY.
I am seriously about to have a mental breakdown if I have to be pregnant with this child one more day. I am so uncomfortable, contracting constantly, gaining weight STILL and not able to do anything I want to do. This morning, a woman who was due THREE DAYS AFTER ME showed photos of her new son on Facebook and yet here I am, still waiting, still bloated, still totally uncomfortable and not at all in the mood to try to be cheery.
The contractions I am having are not the sweet, little painless "Braxton Hicks" contractions. Oh no. These HURT. They are "moderate" ones as my midwife told me as she waited for me to stop contracting on Mon. long enough to read this baby's heart rate.
"This is common with second pregnancies," I am told. And yet, I DO NOT CARE that it is common, I just want it to end.
I am going to rip this child out of my abdomen myself. I am actually getting resentful of him. His sister had the consideration to make her exit five days before this point and yet here I sit, still so uncomfortable, alone with my toddler daughter and utterly miserable.
The fact that I could be in this position another two weeks is making me nuts. And to think that yesterday, I was actually Zen about the whole thing, hopeful he would hang in another week so I could get all my work done.
No Zen! I just want my damn body back to myself. Pregnancy sucks and anyone who tells you different is thirty years removed from it, hitting the crack pipe or one of those women who lives to make other women feel bad about themselves. But I am here to assure you, it is a miserable experience, especially the end point.
Sure, the outcome will be lovely, but only if this waiting does not kill me. Which it might.