Dilated 3 cm. (voice in my head says ALLELUIA!)
The heartrate was a little low, which subsequently had me strapped to a table for the next half hour for a non-stress test to make sure that Little Buddy is doing alright. I watched as his heartrate went from 118 up to 150, back down again, back up again. He was all over the place. But Doc assured me that he is perfectly fine, and that I should not worry (but keep track of movements... just in case... and he's been kicking the crap out of me since then... so no worries).
Doc also says that if I am at a 4 my next visit, which is Wednesday of NEXT WEEK, he'll just send me in right after. Which I am perfectly happy to do. I'm ready to lose this extra 40 pounds (yep) that I've been lugging around with me for the past few months. And of course it will all be off as soon as I deliver, correct? I am pretty sure that's what happened with Alex. Also, I seem to remember it more a tickle than a pain while I was in labor. Ya, pretty sure that's how it went. And it was done in less than 10 minutes. So, what do I have to worry about?
(Really? My logic is finally coming back and my head is trying to yell and scream to let the rest of my body know that PAIN IS ON THE WAY! But then my heart is trying to be all noble and saying that it will be worth it in the end... And so they go, back and forth, and all I have to show for it is a constant layer of perspiration that some would mistakenly call a 'glow'.)
So, there is a possibility that I will have another child in my arms come the end of the next week. Which I am excited about. And petrified about. And shocked into stunned silence about. Paul just walks around saying, It will be fine, it will be fine. Then he fixes something. Or cleans something. Which tells me that he could very well be quite as anxious as I am about Little Buddy. But... We'll be fine.
I have come to accept, however, that this house will never be ready up to my crazy hormone-driven standards. I think it just may be impossible to truly nest while you have a toddler waddling along after you, undoing everything that you've just done. Like now, for instance, she is standing over her diaper bag, pulling everything out, one by one, and chucking it across the living room. The work never ends. I should just stop trying. I've forced my mother to promise that she would clean my house when she arrives post-baby, assuring her that she didn't really have to mean it, but just say it SO I CAN STOP CLEANING. (And now, my daughter's eyes are glassing over, a sure sign that she is now doing to her diaper what she's just done to my living room... a mother's work is never done!)
And yes, the kitchen is done (aside from new light fixtures, but we are waiting for some that match to go on clearance... so those might be a while). I've been lazy about getting pictures up. But really, the weather hasn't helped. Every time the kitchen is clean and up to internet-sharing standards, it's crappy and cloudy outside, and I really want sunny, happy pictures of the completed project, and every tine I get nice weather, the kitchen is a mess. So... soon. Pictures will come soon. Or maybe I won't post any. That way you have to come HERE to see them, and while you are here, you can take a kid or two so I can get some sleep. Perfect.
Wish me luck for this coming week. I won't mind going in before Wednesday. In fact, I would have to say that it would be preferable to go in before Wednesday. COME ON, LITTLE MAN!
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