Well, I managed to make it through the night without having to inhale any paint thinner fumes. I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing but thinking about paint thinner makes me crave the smell so I'ma shut up about it right now!
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go and read about last night's shenanigans!
This morning that agitated, weird and restless feeling is still lingering. Like, I feel like I should go for a run around the block or something. Except I don't do running around the block. I guess I could scream and punch a few pillows but that doesn't seem too satisfying. I think I may just have to settle for filling up the icecube trays again and maybe painting the walls in the loungeroom? Yes, I said painting the wall in the loungeroom bitches. This is what happens when you nest like a crazy mofo for extended periods of time - Your enormous to-do list is completed and you've run out of things to do!
Today is the 38 week mark.
I have now been up the duff for 38 weeks and I tell you, this past week has dragged longer than the other 37.
Days are spent doing the following: Bitch, bitch, whinge, pee, complain, eat, whinge, yawn, clean, pee, bitch, eat, complain, complain, yawn.
Nights are spent doing the following: Bitch, bitch, whinge, pee, complain, pee, pee, pee, drink Raspberry leaf tea, complain, yawn, fart, bitch, braxton hick, freeze and hold breath convinced this may be the start of something, fart, complain, make more tea, yawn, toss and turn until 1am, pee, pee, pee.
Nights are spent doing the following: Bitch, bitch, whinge, pee, complain, pee, pee, pee, drink Raspberry leaf tea, complain, yawn, fart, bitch, braxton hick, freeze and hold breath convinced this may be the start of something, fart, complain, make more tea, yawn, toss and turn until 1am, pee, pee, pee.
Wash, rinse and repeat.
Ok, maybe I just turned you off having a/another baby.
Ok, maybe I'm just exaggerating a little bit.
I'm not exaggerating on the whole Have-a-braxton-hick-freeze-up-and-hold-your-breath part though. Guys, I can't even pee without having a braxton hick which leads me to believe that even the most seasoned of pregnant women still have the "Oh god, this could be the start of it all. GET OUT OF MY UTERUS ALREADY, YOU LITTLE BLEEDER!" moments when they reach that golden over-it stage. Yes? No? Just agree will you!
Tomorrow morning, I'm off for a visit with my gorgeous midwife who I will bombard with a flurry of crazy tales about why being pregnant is driving me crazy and why she should do the ole' membrane sweep right then and there before threatening to go home and pop my own waters with my bamboo knitting needles. She'll then laugh, tell me to shutup, proceed to calm me down and then send me home to relax in a hot shower which funnily enough, has become my second home and a place I would gladly spend the next few hours/days/weeks.
Oh god, I think I have hysterical pregnancy* ...
*Hysterical pregnancy is the clinical term for Whingy McWhingerpants, right?
*Hysterical pregnancy is the clinical term for Whingy McWhingerpants, right?
