You won't believe it.
I'm still pregnant.
Do you think it's possible to get depressed from waiting for a baby to come? Ever since we passed my due date, I've been a mix of impatient, frustrated and upset. And by "upset" I mean "bursting into tears at the dinner table in front of my entire family." This waiting game is so much harder than I ever anticipated.
We've tried all the things—I mean seriously, ALL the things. Pineapple, labor cookies, raspberry leaf tea, evening primrose oil, walking, jumping jacks, acupressure... I'm probably forgetting some. If a slightly dubious internet source recommends it as a way of inducing labor, odds are good I've given it a shot.
The thing is, I KNEW I was going to go late. My mom had my little brother 10 days past his due date, and almost all of my other siblings at least a week past. I know that first pregnancies tend to go a week late, on average. But now that I'm actually here, with Baby's clothes all nicely washed and put away and the hospital bags packed and the car seat installed and checked and double-checked... I just want this sweet child to COME OUT ALREADY. It drives me crazy that I can't just FORCE my body to do what I want it to.
I don't think I've ever used this many caps in a blog post, ever.
Today is the feast of St. Gianna, who I've always loved, and who is a patron saint of mothers and unborn children. I'm
Hopefully my next post will contain a happy announcement. But in the meantime, I've convinced myself that my body is actually incapable of going into labor and this baby is NEVER going to come out. So if anyone wants to talk me down from that particular ledge of insanity... I am sure Frank would appreciate not having to deal with it again.