I am tired. I’m frustrated and irrationally angry with people, and I am just plain tired. I never knew that contractions could last for a month or more – real contractions, not BH. No one told me, and I never thought to research it. I guess I thought that if it was important to know, I’d have been told or stumbled across it in my regular research and emails. Maintaining this level of awareness is exhausting. I think at this point, even when I do go into active labor, I’m going to end up dismissing it. Why? Because this has been going for…3 weeks at this point, I believe. At least 2, but I think 3. Every time they start up, I think “Is it time? Are these the ones? Are we going to settle into a pattern?” but no. Every time I leak a little fluid I wonder “Is that my water? CM? Urine? Is it time?” but no. I swear if I actually go in to labor I’m going to dismiss it as another trick, another “my body hates me and just wants to fuck with me” night. I won’t even realize it, since I don’t even bother timing them at this point. I mean, I went into L&D last week with contractions 4 minutes apart and they sent me home because “they weren’t strong enough”. The next night they were strong enough, I think, but there was no pattern to them. I can’t get in sync…not that THAT is anything new.

I realized while talking to Aaron that I guess I do have some expectations for this birth. I didn’t think I did – I haven’t filed a birth plan, although I have contemplated it. Even if I do, it’s pretty basic: I want low lights (if they turn on the bright lights in the room I might kill them), music, my crocheting (not that I’ll be able to focus, but hey it’s worth a shot), my husband and personnel ONLY during active labor/delivery. That’s it. I don’t know enough about births and having babies to have any idea what I really want. But the one thing I’ve discovered that I really want is to be able to go into labor by myself. For once I would like my body to cooperate with me instead of having to be forced into doing something it should do on it’s own. I know, I haven’t even reached 40 weeks yet, I’m not even due, I’m not over, quit whining. As long as he comes out alive, I’m good. I admit to being disappointed at the prospect of having to be induced, though. I just don’t know how much of this high-level awareness I can take. My doc comes back into town and I have an appt with him on Friday, so I’ll talk to him then and see what he thinks. That will be 2 days before a full 40 weeks.

As for being irrationally angry…yeah, I was going to post about this yesterday but I decided staying away from my computer was probably the better idea. Last Sunday I snapped at my Uncle on FB because he has been irritating the hell out of me by counting down to St. Patrick’s Day, when I would presumably have The Boy. Why? Because

“according to one of the writings in Grandpa Chamberlain’s diary one of his great great great grandchildren is to be born on St. Patrick’s Day because his great great great grandmother was from Ireland and was born on St. Patrick’s Day. Past down was the story of her prayer that a  descendant be born on her birthday until Grandpa Chamberlain wrote it down.”

Verbatim, from an Email he sent me. And Sunday I finally snapped when he said “just 4 more days”. I responded with “I don’t freaking want to do this for 4 more days. I don’t want to have done it for the last 4 days either. I’m tired, I’m miserable, I’m bitchy, I’m in pain. I know it’s going to get worse when “actual” labor hits, but at least then I know the end is in sight. At this point I’m told this could go for several MORE weeks.”

Monday involved me snapping at my best friend, and the rest of Facebook, for telling me to “relax and stop stressing, you’re hurting the baby” in response to me being upset because I wasn’t going to be able to meet with my doc before he left town (which I did end up doing, they got me in that afternoon).  My long-ass response to that was

“It’s not the appointment being missed that I’m upset about. It’s the final reassurance from my doctor. I know you’ve been there done that twice already and know how everything will turn out, but I haven’t. I’m well within my rights to be stressed and panicked at having a stranger having to deal with me and my issues. I have no idea what is really going on with my body, other than “you’re in early labor” but no one will tell me what to expect even remotely. Every day, every few hours, is something different. I have a few miserable hours of damn near back to back contractions, real ones according to the nurses, and then it stops…only to start again in a few hours. I don’t know when to take it seriously and when it’s just annoying and painful. Yes, I’m aware of the “hey stupid, you need to go to the hospital now” signs…but in all honesty, I don’t expect them to actually show up. Why? Because this is my screwed up body we are talking about here. It never does what it should, and if you try to anticipate what it *will* do, it comes up with something completely new. I have a lot of worries going on in my head. Most of them I’m not stressing on, they are just concerns. Shappard is the one I trust to understand them and I trust his assurances. The idea of facing the coming uncertainty without him is stressful. I am coming to grips with the fact that he will very likely not deliver The Boy, but I was counting on this appt for some reassurances. Forgive me if I sound harsh. I’m very tired if being told not to worry and everything is fine, when I know full well that there is still so much that can happen.”

I’m honestly surprised that it’s taken me this long to lose my temper at everyone. We ALL know that I have one, that I’m not that great at suppressing it, and that I’ve been off my anti-crazy meds since the beginning of the month. I try to remember that people don’t remember how stressful their own pregnancies were, that they are looking back through the rose-colored glasses of time and drugs. It doesn’t help all that much, though.

The past two days have been…well, I haven’t been on my FB much because I can’t trust myself to be nice. I made Aaron write my status yesterday, reminding people that I promise to post when I go into labor and that whoever wants one will get the text even in the middle of the night. I didn’t ask him to put that last part, but he did, and now I have a list of about 30 people who want to be freaking notified. Apparently FB reading isn’t good enough for them! I had him write it because 3 times yesterday I had people ask me “So have you gone into labor yet? Has the baby been born? Is there an update?” and each time I tried to respond it looked like “Did you see a fucking update? Did you see me say I’d gone into labor? Do you see a fucking pic of my son? No? Then guess what – I’m still fucking pregnant, stop fucking asking me”. Yes, all those fucks really were in there…only I didn’t post it, because it’s not nice, and it’s not their fault that they’re excited. I just want to be left alone. It’s like they think I’m going to give birth in secret and not tell anyone – because, you know, I’ve been just SO QUIET about being pregnant since two days after I found out, right? And even AFTER Aaron posted that for me, and people were like “add me! add me!” one of the people who asked to be added STILL posts “checking FB for baby updates!” and I know I’m the only one she knows that is pregnant right now. They don’t trust me and it’s pissing me off. A friend said I should post “the next person to ask me if there is an update or if I’ve gone into labor isn’t going to get told until the child is 2 years old”. At this moment, that is really rather appealing…although I wouldn’t go that far, more like “next person that asks for an update isn’t getting one”.  

So that’s what’s going on over here. A lot of tension, a lot of frustration, a lot of exhaustion, a lot of waiting, and a lot of anger at people. 

*Updated* Aforementioned best friend just came by to talk to her hubby, who is over here gaming with my hubby and the rest of the boys. She came back to say hi, and I attempted to apologize for snapping on Monday. Her response? “No worries. You have no idea how much slack you’re getting because we all know that you won’t get to do this again. What I often want to tell you is CALM DOWN and STOP WORRYING SO MUCH!” So…it’s different because I’m infertile and this was pure luck? How the FUCK does that work? And apparently I made zero impression with telling her to stop telling me to relax and stop worrying, if she’s willing to come over to my house and say it to my face. 

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  1. I had hours of prodromal labor every night for 2-3 weeks before this girl was born. It had me feeling bitchy and unhappy too. Hang in there!

  2. Jess

     /  March 22, 2011

    I'm sorry. Stupid labor that you have. Hard to know what to do when, I can appreciate that on the other end of the spectrum, too.

    People won't understand, is the truth, they just won't.


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