One of the signs of approaching labor is that you feel that something's not right.
Oh, heck, I've been feeling like that for nearly a MONTH NOW.
There's more uncertainty happening here than in Heisenberg's Principle.
How am I SUPPOSED TO FEEL?!?!?!?!?!???????
(Yes, I did just make a nerd joke. Hey ... if nothing else, I've maintained SOME semblance of a sense of humor. I've cultivated it for years. SOMETHING has to make up for the fact that my feet are all puffy and nasty-looking. I miss my metatarsals. I miss how svelte my ankles COULD look. I'm in mourning for my feet. And if this dratted baby would EVER come, I could have them back. ... I could have had them back maybe by NOW if she had just frakking COOPERATED on Friday. ... My uterus is still a little sore. Just for the record.)
My pregnancy-induced/-centered dreams are getting weirder.
My mad Google-fu skillz aren't helping.
Yesterday, IRL, I was looking up "how to tell if your water has broken" ... a big part is that (1) it's not going to be yellow, like pee; (2) it won't smell like pee; and (3) if you lay down (after putting on a pad) and then get up and it "gushes" ... THEN it's amniotic fluid.
In my dream, one of Michael's cousins bought an antique sports car. And a lot of antique luggage, which happened to belong to Grandpa C. And there were these blue-prints/technical drawings ... of fruit. Yeah. Don't get it.
And I was getting a little jealous as everyone's talking ... since Michael's East Coast cousins seemed to always be going on vacations and getting free hotel rooms and all. (IRL, I think the last "vacation" that Michael and I had was when we went to Seattle for our second anniversary. Stayed at a hotel and everything. A Motel 6 ... Yeah. Not as romantic as our honeymoon when we had a hot tub in the room. Oh well. Since then, it's been camping trips. Or trips with family. Not a bad thing ... but not very romantical or posh or anything.)
And then I realized that my crotch was damper than usual. So I went to the bedroom/bathroom ... and I couldn't really tell ... so I squatted over the sink (there are mirrors over the sinks in our bathroom) and relaxed. And I peed and SHOT LITERS of clear fluid in HUGE SQUIRTS into the sink.
"Honey, don't go anywhere," I requested (rather calmly) of Michael.
Then, flash forward to a playplace outside Red Robin (where, IRL, there IS no play place). Michael and I are lying on a slide. And there's no baby. Because, somehow, in my dream, I had been pregnant for MUCH LONGER than 9 months ... but it was two pregnancies ... and I had lost the first one. Then, quickly, before we realized that there even WAS a loss, was pregnant again ... and the baby still hadn't been born.
So.... yeah. Obviously, I think that I'm going to shoot out amniotic fluid like a pressurized fire hose.
And that my gestational period for this pregnancy is going to give elephants a run for their money.
At this point, though, can you really blame me??
... I hope those were her feet. Please tell me that those were her feet that just jabbed me in the ribs.
My Visiting Teacher came by yesterday evening. She even brought us dinner. (So I don't have to cook tonight. Which is nice, since Michael's in class. Again. ... Unless I go into labor or my water breaks. Then I call him, call Mom, and head to the hospital. I'll call Mom C, too. And probably a friend to drive me over. Just in case.)
But she (my Visiting Teacher) is SURE that I have dropped. ... Which is a good thing.
Maybe I'll eventually HAVE this stinking baby. (Though I hope that BabyGirl won't LITERALLY stink. Much.)
Mom will come up tomorrow.
I just want to cry. Like all day. Please tell me that this is labor approaching. That I won't be pregnant FOREVER. That this child will BE and STAY head-down.
Last pregnancy, I didn't MIND having the kiddos inside me ... but, well, they WERE better behaved. With BabyGirl, I think that I really want her OUT so that I don't have to worry anymore about which way she's turned THIS hour.
Crap. I think I feel toes on my cervix again.
*string of curses*
I'm going to take a shower and cry now.
And not JUST because she's pressing HARD against my (probably bruised) uterine wall.