So here I am, one day past my due date.
And in the interest of “keeping it real” here’s what I’m thinking, stream-of-consciousness style:
- My belly is full, thanks to a home-cooked meal by my Mom. I didn’t realize until I ingested at least 8 lbs. of her roast beef, rice, potatoes and green beans that we have definitely been “getting by” in the meal department. Quesadillas, sandwiches, omelets, sandwiches, pizza, cereal, and sandwiches will leave your stomach AND your soul starving after a couple of weeks. Thank God for country cooking.
- p.s. After I swallowed my second plate, I worried that I might go into labor and then have to have an emergency c-section…I don’t know how all that works, but I pictured the hospital staff seeing exactly how much food I ate on this night, and I blushed to the roots of my hair. For shame!
- Fact: Due dates are of the devil and are only fun if you go into labor well before hand.
- Speaking of hands, I have pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel. Because it’s not enough to experience things like incontinence and the sensation of a small human living in your stomach. You really should have painfully tingling fingers that wake you in the middle of the night, too. Every night.
- I’m not bitter, really.
- I need a belly harness.
- I need a construction crane to get me out of my bathtub every morning.
- Talking to my big brother tonight about my guilty conscience concerning my parenting as of late, we decided that I should not feel guilty because my kids have probably never had this much fun, watching endless television and eating potato chips for breakfast.
- If it ever seems like I have it all together, let me break the news here: I am 100% totally and completely in-over-my-head. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this baby and I simply cannot process the fact that homeschool is supposed to start NEXT TUESDAY. I wrote it in all caps hoping it would help me process it. Didn’t help.
- As I get closer to delivery, vague memories of what lies ahead are starting to surface, causing me to sort of want to hyperventilate. I’m looking at you, breastpump.
- I wish I had never written a blog series about “How to Fashionably Survive at the Hospital” because I am almost certain I set myself up for failure this go-round. Here’s my prediction: I’m going to arrive at the hospital in my Wal-mart muumuu, I’m going to forget my make-up bag, and you know all those dreaded whispers about what can happen on the delivery table?…God, help me.
- The ceiling fan is drying out my contacts and I find myself wanting to blame that, too, on pregnancy. Maybe I am bitter…
And there you have it! A true glimpse into the ranting and raving mind of a past-due pregnant woman who looks and feels a lot like the roses in her kitchen…
If you decide to say a prayer for me today, say two for my husband. 🙂