Yesterday, I hit the 38 week mark. Next week, I'm being induced.
If one more fucking person asks if I've had the baby yet, I'm going to stab them in the face with a fork.
If one more person gives me their GUARANTEED labor induction techniques (sex, walking, yoga ball, evening primrose oil, pineapple...), I'm going to stab them in the face with a fork. The relief of doing that will probably relax my body enough to release enough oxytocin to get this show on the road. Then I can tell everyone else how to go into labor.
At my last appointment, I didn't gain any weight at all from the previous week. I am a "good" 2cm dilated and still 70-75% effaced. She thinks I'm "very favorable" for induction. She also knows that I am DONE being pregnant. Either Aug 8 or 9, we'll begin the process.
At my appointment this coming Tuesday (Aug 2, 38w3d), she will strip my membranes in an effort to get me started on my own. She did instruct us to have sex after that. That sounds kind of like going to the dentist, having a tooth pulled, and being told to go home and eat popcorn. Just doesn't sound like it'll be fun. And how is sex fun at 38 weeks anyway? I'm roughly the size of a developing nation, and my junk is so swollen that everything feels foreign. Blah.
I'm in a bad mood. Can you tell? Let's talk about more awesome things...
Tomorrow is J's birthday. He will be 45. Monkey came over today to help us celebrate. I asked Monk, "What do you want to get J for his birthday?" He said, "A present!" I said, "Yes, but what should the present be?" He thought for a moment, then said, "I sink.... candies. And he can share wif me." So, in addition to his birthday present, he also got a bunch of the giant chewy sweet tarts that he and Monk love so much. And wouldn't you know it, J shared wif him.