Sunday, September 4, 2016

It's Labor Day Weekend, and I'm Not in Labor


**DISCLAIMER: TMI POST AHEAD**

As I type, it's currently 2:30am. I woke up at 1am for Round 1 of my several nightly bathroom trips and as per usual, could not fall back to sleep. It is Sunday, September 4- the Sunday before Labor Day, and I am officially a week overdue. And guys, I am feeling all the feels.

I have done all the things. Since taking my maternity leave two weeks ago, I have walked miles just about every day. I've eaten Indian, Mexican, and even added extra red pepper flakes to my spaghetti to check off  "spicy foods" from my list. I have had some good, but mostly what I assume to be, hideously unattractive bloated whale sex with my dear, sweet husband. I have had my membranes stripped and I have lost my mucus plug.

And still, the bassinet beside my bed lies empty.


I am angry at every person who told me that second babies come sooner. (Charlie was six days late- but still, at this point in his pregnancy, he was already born!)

I am annoyed with every person who asks me "when are you going to have that baby?!" As if it's a personal choice of mine to keep this baby in my womb because I'm selfish and enjoy wasting everyone's time.

I am frustrated with the fact that I am burning away days of precious leave from work that could have been spent snuggling my infant son and I'm upset that my Mom's 5-day stay with us to help out may result in her not even meeting her second grandchild.

I hate how melodramatic I sound, and I hate that I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to complain because you know, "babies are a blessing" and all that jazz.

My one saving grace in all of this is my amazing, loving support system. My Mom, who took Charlie camping overnight so that Chuck and I could have an unplanned anniversary date. My mother-in-law, who has literally been waiting "on-call" for weeks for the moment when we need her. My sweet husband, who has rubbed my feet, retrieved countless glasses of water, and been my rock every step of this journey. And a dear friend and neighbor whose due date happened to fall just 5 days after mine. We text daily, mostly to bitch and complain, but also to support each other and daydream about our babies growing up together. Those little text messages are so cathartic to me, and I am so thankful to have her in my life.

Pregnancy is no joke, friends. And although I know that the instant I hold that darling bundle of joy for the first time, all this angst and frustration will become a distant memory, today- it really sucks.


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