The one where I curse. A lot.

If bad language offends you, you should probably not read anymore. I'm having an emotional breakdown, so I figured I should record it on my blog and post it for the world to see.

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I've been pregnant twice before. I've made it to 39 weeks, 2 days with both kids. But I have never.... EVER... had this many contractions before they were born.

I've had so many "this is it" moments I can't even count anymore.

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Yesterday I sat through an hour long meeting timing contractions (and probably frightening co-workers). That's when I decided I think I'm done with work.

However, since I'm not independently wealthy, it's probably very irresponsible to take time off without pay. But at this point it's so hard I don't care.

Of course, I stayed home today because I woke up all through the night with a headache and feeling like I was going to throw up IN ADDITION to the contractions. But then at about noon, they all stopped. But you see- if I had gone to work, I would have had contractions all day. And probably thrown up AND had diarrhea.

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I do remember a point in every pregnancy where I completely give up and have a crying fit that lasts for a day and decide I absolutely can't do it anymore. With my son, it happened just before my water broke. Seriously. I was watching fitness infomercials and crying, and then I started watching "The Devil Wears Prada", and crying because they threw the steak away, and I was SO HUNGRY. I stood up, and my water broke.

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With my daughter, my dad was in the hospital in another state, and we all thought he was going to die. My family had told me the doctor said I could call him and ask him questions, but when I tried to call him, the receptionist said, "He said anything you need to know your family can ask him. He's not going to talk to you on the phone."

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Today was that moment with this pregnancy. This is the best way to describe me right now:

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So, I apologize if I've alienated everyone. But I just needed to let it all out. I do have it in perspective, deep down, and I'm looking forward to meeting my daughter. It's just at this point, I'm a) convinced it will never happen and b) concerned that by the time she gets here I will have lost my job, been evicted, and be living in the car I can't pay for.

At least then I won't have to pay $1300 a month for childcare...

Eff this ish..

Today I got fed up with the contractions. They got really bad, I called the doctor's office, they said if they continued to go to the ER.

I went to the ER.  They admitted me. They checked me.

After having contractions every day since my last doctor's appointment- on Tuesday- I had progressed ABSOLUTELY EFFING ZERO. Nothing. 2 centimeters, 50% effaced.

I hate everything.

EFF THAT.

Even though they hooked me up to the monitors and we were able to physically SEE the contractions happening, the nurse explained to me that what really matters is the effect the contractions are having... not the contractions themselves.

EFF YOU CONTRACTIONS.

So, at 5:15 they told me they would have me walk to see if we could get things going. She said, "You can have a cup of ice and go walk. Don't come back until 7:00- unless your water breaks, you can't walk because the contractions are so bad, or you're bleeding." (Well, she said it nicer than that... but still.)

So I walked.

I really got to know not only the Labor and Delivery unit, but the Post-Partum unit.

I made friends with nurses.

I did walking lunges. (Wow. That's a whole new kind of pain- doing a walking lunge with a baby in your pelvis. Holy crap.)

I walked by the nurses stations repeatedly. By the end of my walk, they all knew I had a 5 year old boy, a 2 year old girl, and was doing my best to get the baby girl out of my body.

I squatted through some contractions, until a nurse saw me and came running and asked if I was okay. So, after that I tried to do it when no one was around. Didn't want to alarm anyone.

I thought about Captain Mal, and applied his wisdom to my childbirth experiences:

"It never goes smooth! How come it never goes smooth?"

I returned to my room at 7, convinced that something had happened, because I was incredibly sore and tired.

Guess what:

NOTHING. 2 cm. 50%.

MOTHERF****ER JONES

So they sent me home.

That felt like a special kind of failure. I cried. A lot.

So I get to do this again until May 7. Because I'm pretty sure I can't handle another false alarm, so I'm not going in again unless my water breaks all over everything. I mean, those people on "I didn't know I was pregnant" have stomach aches, and then end up having a baby on the toilet or in the bathtub, right before the act break. But seriously, I'm not going to go through this again.

Oh Tobias. You blowhard.

The plan (as of right now) is as follows:
- Pretend I'm not pregnant.
- Ignore contractions
- Try working out again
- Do housework tomorrow
- Go to the hospital on May 7 and coerce her out.

So don't expect me to be nice. Or patient. Or friendly. And if you ask me "What's the hold up?" (like a co-worker did on Friday) I will probably punch you. And kick you. Hard.

As my son said as we drove to the hospital today: "I know you really want the baby to come out. I mean, that's why you cry a lot and pee all the time, right?"

And just to make me feel better, here's this:

"I'm a leaf on the wind..." Yes I know Captain Mal didn't say that. You want to argue with me?