This post will serve as a brain dump in the hopes that I will write it, and promptly pass the fuck out. Sleep has been eluding me for weeks, months, years…who the hell keeps track anymore, but it has certainly gotten worse the last month or so. Sure, I have frequent pee trips every night, but its more than that. My brain simply refuses to shut down for more than a few hours at a time. It doesn’t help that every time I roll over or change positions, I feel Bagel heavily move from side to side in my stomach. It’s somewhat uncomfortable, but mainly, it just starts my brain spinning that within a month, I will have her in my arms, thus cuing a freak out that I will be an utter failure as a mother, and she’ll be wearing boom boom shorts and stripper sandals by the age of 11.
For the record, Hubs and I both had a creepy premonition in dreams the other night that she would be born on July 8th. Just putting it out there in case it really does happen, and then we can all freak out together and share a moment:
I don’t believe I’ve mentioned my extraordinary enthusiasm for SCOTUS’ ruling on DOMA the other day. For my full view on this matter, please read or re-read my most popular post of all time. Love and sparklie things will win over bigotry and fear every time, Haters. And I’m totes looking forward to all of the widespread bestiality that will come from this decision. Way to spice it up, America!!!
We had our final meeting with our doula last night before the “big day” when I call her in a panic. She is SO wonderful, and I feel so SO confident in her ability to care for both Hubs and I through this whole process. I give myself a hearty pat on the back for finding her. I will be attempting to labor at home as long as possible before heading off to the hospital. We went through our birth plan together, highlighting some of the big things that I’d like to make sure of:
1. Although I know I will need cervical checks at the hospital, I would prefer not to know how many centimeters dilated I am–just want to know if I’m ready to push. I know myself, and I know that any pressure I put on myself to dilate quicker will result in the opposite effect, and a lot of discouragement.
2. I’d like to hold off on cutting the cord until it finishes pulsing. I never knew this until recently, but the baby continues to get a lot of oxygen from the cord even after she is breathing on her own. Sometimes the hospital gets “clamp happy”.
3. I’m opting out of the antibiotic eye goop. It’s a precautionary measure that prevents the transmission of gonorrhea and chlamydia to the baby, but since I have tested negative for all STDs, Hubs has tested negative, and I’ll be Don Draper’s secretary if either one of us have had an extramartial affair since our tests, I’m going to safely assume that Bagel will not get an STD eye infection after birth. The main reason I’d like to opt out is that is seriously impacts Bagel’s vision if she has goop in her eyes, and I want her to be able to see my sobbing mess of a face when I hold her for the first time.
4. I’m opting out of the Vitamin K shots they give for blood clotting. The chances of her having a serious clotting disorder are 1 in 400,000. Think about that stat for a second. If I was having a boy and getting him circumcised immediately after birth, I would get the shot to rule out any possibility of something going wrong, but since that will not be happening, I will wait for my pediatrician to administer it orally later on.
We talked about a bunch of other “what if” scenarios (what if my water breaks and I’m not in labor, what if I’m going way past my due date, what if the baby’s head rips me so badly I have a permanent vaganus…) and her answers were very reassuring. If I go to 41 weeks, we are going to start trying some natural methods to kick start labor (sex, walking, herbal remedies, etc) If those don’t work, we are bringing out the “big guns”–aka–castor oil. She said she has never seen it not work to bring on labor, but that if I opt for it, I will seriously need to be prepared to wear Depends on the car ride to the hospital. The diarrhea can get THAT BAD. I know it sounds like misery, but I am more terrified of induction than the runs, and hell, after 9 months of extreme constipation, it may feel good to shit my brains out. Hopefully I won’t need castor oil, but it’s nice to know I have the option.
In case anyone’s wondering, I just trapped a spider the size of a fucking silver dollar that was wandering around my kitchen. It’s in a cup in the middle of our kitchen floor. It’s been in the upper 90’s here in LA the past couple of days, and that seems to bring about spider season at our place.
Last random thought for this morning is about “my number”–we all have one, Ladies….amiright? Hubs, I know you’re reading this, and just know that I will never, ever tell it to you 🙂 And Hubs, I know yours is higher than mine, you little minx. I’ll preface this by saying that I had “fun” in my 20s, but not Lindsay Lohan kind of fun. I’ve had one one-night-stand, and the rest were guys I dated for at least 6 months. Overall, I have absolutely no regrets or hang ups around how many people I’ve slept with, nor would I ever judge anyone else for how little or many people they had chosen to boink. My number is sufficient enough that I was playing a game this morning as I was trying to will myself to sleep. Rather than counting sheep, I was trying to remember, in order, the guys I’ve slept with. I kept coming up one short, and finally. FINALLY. I remembered the forgotten one. Poor guy. Rather than lull me to sleep, the exciting fact that I was able to accomplish this feat had me wide awake.
And that is the end of my completely random miscellaneous entry.