I hate waiting

Still no baby.

Mom went home to check on my stepdad.

Michael took care of the kids and made a run to the office so that stuff that needed to get taken care of got ... taken care of.

I was SUPPOSED to have a scheduled induction this morning at 6:30 AM.
I called at 5 AM. No room. Call back at 9 AM. No room. Call back at 1. Indefinitely postponed.
Which was a huge waste of how cute my hair, outfit, and makeup was today.

I took a (second) shower where I sobbed. Tried to put on makeup again. Cried too much. So scrubbed off the foundation that I had put on. Screw it.
Called my OB at 2, when she was out of her meeting.

Labor and Delivery is full to capacity.
I have my appointment tomorrow. If there's no change, I'm (tentatively) scheduled to go in Friday morning at 9 AM.

THAT'S IN MARCH.

I spent most of the afternoon in bed, after a walk with Michael.
I alternated between reading, playing Mah Jongg on my phone, and crying.

I finally got up after watching an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras (see how far I've fallen????) with Miss Bucket.
She doesn't want to do pageants. Fine by me. I don't want to be a pageant mom.
Not like I have the money for it, anyways.
Then I got the kids into bed, since Michael and Mom took care of everything else before leaving.

Michael got back. I ate dinner. And ice cream. I think I'm going to take another shower to warm up.
And to wash some of the salt-water residue off my face.
My eyes and nose hurt.
My head and shoulders and neck hurt.
My feet are swollen enough to hurt. And they do. But, hey, at least I repainted my toenails yesterday, so that's something nice.

Debating getting my hair cut. Maybe I'll wait until after this gorram baby ever arrives.
So that's, what, sometime around 2015?

The bad thing about having a sense of humor is that people don't always know when you're NOT joking.
I asked my OB, between tears, if there were some anti-depressants I could take ... since I'm so unhappy about this whole situation. I want to stop crying. I want to NOT feel frustrated. I ... want to be numb. At least until I can get into the damn hospital and get this done. I want my feet back. I want to be able to wear shoes again. I want to stop being in a state of suspense 24/7. And, well, if it can't happen RIGHT NOW, I want to be numb enough that I can take care of my kids and the house and Michael and the animals without tears running down my face the whole time.

But, well, she didn't really give me an answer. I don't know if it's because there's nothing that'd take effect and be safe for the time being ... or, more likely, because she thought I was joking.
But, no ... I really was kinda/rather serious. I'm tired of being hormonal. I'm tired of my feet blooming over the tops of my shoes like some kind of over-risen bread dough. And, now, I'm tired of crying.

I just want to crawl into some cave somewhere until I can have this baby. This way, if I cry and am miserable, I won't be bothering anyone else. I won't have to pretend to NOT be upset/unhappy about the fact that I was supposed to be safely ensconced in a hospital bed, pumped with Pitocin and, perhaps, Fentanyl or an epidural and getting this baby OUT so that I have a reason to be tired ... and I'd be able to get rid of the edema in my feet and calves.I wouldn't have to fret about being bumped again and again and again from a scheduled induction. Or worry about which way this gorram parasite is facing or where her stupid hands are. Because it'd be OVER. And I could cuddle and nurse this little infant-inconvenience. ... And, really, once she's OUT, it won't be such an inconvenience.

I shouldn't be so resentful right now. Eventually this daughter is going to read this. And she's going to think that I don't love her right now.
I do.
I'm just covered in about fifty layers of frustration and prickles and angry bees in my head.

Though, really ... if she wants to stretch out as badly as it APPEARS that she does (Owww), I keep telling her, it'd be MUCH, MUCH easier to stretch out OUTSIDE my uterus.
But, hey, if nothing else, she's not one to ever make me worry about needing to do a kick count. She's an active little miss. Which is appreciated ... when it doesn't feel like she's trying to bruise the inside of my uterus. Just sayin'.

Okay. I'm going to take a shower.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Another day that I can't take Valerian or anything ... which I REALLY want to do.
But, hey, at least Michael's coming to my appointment with me ... so if they're sending me back home until Friday (which will mean that I will not be in ANY shape to drive), I will still make it home safely (and in time to get the kids from the bus).

But, hey, who knows? Maybe they'll figure out that I can't tell if I'm in labor or that I'm really leaking amniotic fluid ... and they'll get me in and get this baby born and then I can have my feet back again. AND a baby to cuddle and all will be right with the world.
Even though it'll mean that I'll be in the throes of sleep-deprivation ... but, hey, I can handle that.

Also, another nice thing is that Freyja-cat snuggled with me for HOURS. Which was sweet.
Especially while I took a nap. It wasn't a long nap ... but it was a nice respite from the WAVES OF HORMONES AND DISAPPOINTMENT of the day.

(Dang all these ladies and their ability to give birth without pharmecutical intervention! I'm starting to wonder if I'm just one of those ladies that can't do it. I mean, I'm having some contractions ... but nothing that I can't talk or walk through. Do you think it's possible that maybe my mutant ability is that I'm this powerhouse when it comes to pain? I do have my brachydactyly mutation ... so I might as well get some mutant power to go with it. Besides my mad movie-quoting skillz, that is.)

Okay, still shivering from eating ice cream. Going to take a shower. Now.
Who knows ... maybe my water will break. That could be fun. ... Depending on one's definition of fun, I suppose.