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     From what I can gather, there comes a time in every woman's pregnancy where she is simply done with being pregnant. I mean, over it. That time when all she wants to do is hold her new baby, get her body back to a somewhat normal existence, and finally stop feeling sick. Sadly, I may have reached that mark prematurely, because now this ticking time bomb flipping and flopping inside of me has me living on pins and needles, fearful that he won't come out at an opportune time or, worse, that he simply won't come out at all! I have vivid dreams that my water has broken, only to wake up and realize that I was just sweating.... really badly. And, when asked the daily question "Wait, you're STILL pregnant??" I joke that I'll be taking this kid to college in utero, only to seconds later well up with tears because maybe I wasn't really joking. And since pregnant women are known for their highly rational thoughts and emotions (gulp), it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that I bounce and rock back and forth on my yoga ball so much during each day that I induce motion sickness and nausea instead of labor.... and since this method obviously doesn't work, I continue to do it again later that day.... and that evening.... and right before bed.
     I had one ray of hope on Monday when I went for my weekly check-up and the doctor gave me my "show".... ladies, for the men's sake, I won't discuss what kind of show it was, but let's just say that I was mortified and thoroughly grateful that this happened at the doctor's office and NOT in my bathroom at home, or I would've thought I was dying for sure. It looked like Edward Scissorhands himself had performed the pelvic exam. My doctor followed this ray of hope up with the usual comments about 0 cm dilated (blah blah blah) and still only the same amount of cervical softness as last week (blah blah blah). So, in true pregnancy form, I decided to celebrate my feelings of overwhelming disappointment with a blizzard from Dairy Queen.... size? Large. But, Shivonne, you may ask, won't that upset your lactose-sensitive stomach??? And in reply, I would laugh heartily in your face, because this stomach of mine refuses to keep ANYTHING inside, lactose or not, for more than an hour anyways.... one more "symptom" that labor is surely on it's way (which I'll believe when I see it, because this has been going on for WEEKS and still, no labor!).
     The "show" is yet another sign that labor is 24-48 hours away, or so I'm told. Although, like weathermen, the writers at What To Expect are simply misguided fools getting paid to raise one's hopes, only to dash them away again with a clause that says "But every body is different" or "There's a 50% chance of rain, hail, and sunshine". Because it's been 49.5 hours and I am still not contracting, laboring, or doing anything else that would make me feel hopeful that my baby will ever come out. And D-Day is tomorrow! A mere 9 hours away!! What is he waiting for!?!? Does he not want to meet me as much as I want to meet him? Is he just as scared as I am that he's too big to fit through an impossible opening?? (Because I could at least get on board with that line of reasoning.) Or maybe he just really likes a good game of Hide and Seek.... whatever his thoughts, I hope he changes his mind soon, because I want to see him (and my feet) in the worst way. Please come out, Baby Boy. Mama wants to hold you, kiss you, and finally be able to sleep on her stomach again. PS, I love you.

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