The One With the Countdown

So today is my Grandpa Carpender's birthday - don't ask me which one, all I know is that he is OLD!!!! 

Just kidding, I think he was born in 1936 or something, so he's however old that makes him.

To me he's just grandpa, not an age, so don't think I'm lame. Plus, I'm his favorite so I can get away with whatever.

Not really, but I pretend that anyways.

December 13th sounds like a wonderful day to have a baby, doesn't it?

I sure think so. But then again so does the 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st. 

After that it all gets iffy. I don't much enjoy the idea of being in the hospital on Christmas, seriously who would? I mean if it would get this ginormous growth that has accumulated in my mid-section off, I may be up for it, but that's only if my family is up for bringing all 3,281 presents into my hospital room and sitting on top of each other while we open them up, only to take everything BACK down to their cars later.

I will make them do it.

Don't think I won't.

So family - for your own sake, pray this baby comes out soon. 

Not to mention the desperately dismal birthdays this child will have if he comes out that close to Christmas. Nobody wants to celebrate a birthday when they were just celebrating Christmas .7 seconds ago! Not to mention the fact that he will have truly lame birthday presents, like socks or something, because everyone will spend all their money on Christmas already. I don't even like Preslie's birthday in February because I feel like it's too close to Christmas. This child is really going to get the shaft.

So last Friday was our 37ish weeker appointment (not officially until Sunday). Doc says, "do you want to be checked?"

Well really doc, I don't think any woman would actually enjoy that process, but out of curiosity's sake I kind of want you to. But then again, with Preslie - Friday they didn't check and then Saturday she was here, so maybe maybe we should not have you check and history will repeat itself. 

Then husband chimes in with, "If you're up for it, I'm sure she wants you to!"

Oh Eric, my sweet, sweet Eric. How I love you and loathe you all at the same time. I love you for knowing me well enough to know that I am ridiculously curious about this and I want to know. I loathe you because you obviously have jinxed it and now it will no longer happen this weekend. Well, I didn't actually loathe him at the time, I didn't really loathe him until Monday when all of a sudden nothing had STILL happened. And even then I didn't really loathe him. But you know that part in movies when the pregnant lady is yelling at her husband all red faced and bitter "YOU DID THIS TO MEEEEAAHHH!!!!!" cause she's in so much pain during the labor. . . . yeah, I say that to Eric all the time, only I'm not in labor. Secretly Eric I loathe your doctor who told you that you wouldn't be able to have kids. I loathe him. I LOATHE him! And I loathe the makers of birth control - ALL of them. Because we have been on ALL of them when ALL of our kids have miraculously found their way to my stomach. I think I just might send all my medical bills to those companies just to see if they'll pay for it - I mean come on guys, you don't want it to get out that your stuff obviously doesn't work. 

Back to the story.

So doc says, okay let's check. Brief intermission while I change into a very small sheet, and then doc comes back, checks and what is it? What is that you say doc? Nothing is happening? As in  . . ..  NOTHING???? Gulp. YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!!

Sure I act like that's fine, like I knew it was coming. But in reality if you had told me I was already dilated to a 14 I would have acted like I knew it was coming too. I've given in to the idea, but secretly I keep enough of a hope alive and enough of a conversation going for both sides of the argument so that every time something happens I can be all knowing and say "See, I knew it, I told you that would happen." It's called playing both sides of the bet, it makes you rich faster . . . . in Vegas at least, but it sure ain't helping much here. 

Thoughts? Well I guess like I said I wasn't so surprised. Of course secretly I was hoping that SOMETHING would have happened. I mean, I've been keeping up with my squats, I've been walking around a lot, I've been cleaning and mopping the floors, and there have been a couple hippidy dibbidy . . . . what else is there for me to do? 

Ya ya ya, I know, baby will come when baby's ready and a little more of that Charlie Brown "waaw waaw waww waw waaawwww" but I think baby needs to learn how baby is going to have to start doing things when I'M ready. I heard the other day that on average boys have a longer gestation than girls do because it takes them longer to develop the surfactant to their lungs. Well sure, I don't want my child living in a plastic box for a few weeks, but maybe a few days is okay, I mean that's what insurance is for, right?

Okay, if you thought that was serious and are all mad at me now, just stop reading cause clearly you don't understand me and my humor at all!!!!

Rant finished. 

So Saturday, oh yes, Saturday there was a few hours of very awesome contractions. Contractions that were strong enough and only 8 minutes apart that I thought for sure this was going to be it. I didn't sit down all morning, just cleaned and cleaned and cleaned hoping to keep the contractions going, but when they all of a sudden started being 12 minutes apart. . . . . and then 17 . . . . . and then 30 . . . . . and then 24 hours apart, my dreams started to fail me. 

Sunday, tithing settlement. And you know what, I wasn't feeling great, and the kids had been up a lot the night before, so there was this strong urge on my end to tell Eric to go by himself.

And then the heavens opened and I knew what would make the baby come out.

If I go to tithing settlement like a good little girl, if I go to all three hours of church even though I'm tired and sick and don't feel well, if I go and participate, God will bless me by having this child.

Easier said than done.

God doesn't like me challenging him I don't think.

Because not a single contraction happened the rest of the day.

Depressing.

I go to bed every night with these little twitchy pains and I think - this will be it, I will wake up in the middle of the night and we will have this baby. It will be awesome too since I always take sleeping pills, so I'll be out of it entirely when I go into L&D at 2am with my hair messed up, no make up on, and slobber dribbling down my chin. It's okay, I'm willing to risk the terrible pictures that may come from it as long as I can get out of this!

Monday I had a bajillion hours of homework to do. Seriously, my first block of classes and I'm out with a 4.0. Then I get into a critical thinking class and already I'm dreading what it's going to do to my GPA, I'm sure it won't be a 4.0 after this block of classes is over. It took me 7 hours to read and take notes on one chapter that was 29 pages long. Uh, ya, lame. And I can't just not read, because this professor is smart and has caught onto my ways and she requires that we take 77 quizzes after we read each chapter. It's my favorite. Really.

Reason #111 why this baby should come out soon? This week is my final week in classes, then I have a two week break for the holidays and don't have to start classes back up until January 2. Well here's the no bueno to my cake - the c-section is scheduled for December 29th, which means I'll be in the hospital until at least the 31st, most likely the 1st, so I'll come home and immediately the next day have to start up into classes. That sounds about as appealing as fingers running down a chalkboard, nails being stabbed into my eyelids, or having to listen to deep southern bluegrass for longer than 0.1255 seconds. Baby should come THIS week, that way I can spend my three really boring days in the hospital finishing up my papers for the week, and then when I get out, I'm good and done with school for a solid two weeks and can recover and get used to the swing of things with 3 little kiddos before I have to start back into school. 

I'm hoping I have been a good enough girl this year that Santa, or God, or whoever I should be asking for this gift, will give me what I want! Clearly it's the best for the masses here people. Clearly.