He's finally here!
Don't get all crazy, I'm not in labor ... yet. But I'm having contractions and PAIN and all that good stuff. Went to see Dr. S. and he took out the stitch. That was so much fun. But it's over. I'm stitch-less. Just shy of 37 weeks.
I am approaching the end of my pregnancy, and my little bun in the oven is growing and healthy. I am looking forward to getting out of this godforsaken bed. I am looking forward to picking up my daughter, hugging my husband while standing up, and feeling real sunlight (not to mention coloring my roots).
Wasn't that a movie? The movie of my LIFE, maybe. Eighty days. Eight-oh. In bed. Eleven-and-a-half weeks lying down. Seriously. But the good news is that when I got my ultrasound, I saw a big blob on a tiny portable machine. Beautiful. The little man is about 3 3/4 lbs.
So how is bedrest, you might ask? I'm not going to lie: It's pretty dreadful. My daughter has turned her back on me because I can't pick her up when she's crying. I've become that weird, dreadlocked lady who lives in the bedroom down the hall.
So I'm home, 77 hours post-op (but who's counting?), in bed. Mom and mom-in-law are waiting on me hand and foot and buying me fashionable loungewear. I may even get a bell.
Yesterday, my mom came to visit, armed with an iPhone full of show tunes -- and I decided to call my journey "Defying Gravity" after my most favorite tune from the "Wicked" and "Glee" soundtracks.
I've been on my back for 36 hours now -- most of that with my head lower than my feet.