Thursday, May 08, 2008

Thank God I'm not an elephant.

An elephant's gestation period is 22 months. Can you imagine? Surely I'd kill myself.

Yep - I'm still housing this fetus. You thought, perhaps, since I've been missing in action for nearly a week that I'd given birth? No. Not so lucky. We did have a false alarm that sent us to the labor and delivery ward just this past Monday, though - imagine my dismay when they declared me "not in active labor" and sent me on my pathetic little way. Bastards.

The baby is head down - for the first time! Could it be? Should I get my hopes up that I'll go into labor on my own AND she'll be in the correct position? I'm pretty sure God doesn't like me that much, so I'm not getting excited.

I've pretty much reached the end of my rope here, readers. Really. I'm exhausted. I haven't slept more than a few hours each night in weeks. I'm in pain. I'm already mourning the loss of my ability to give my undivided attention to baby boy. I'm terrified of the impending c-section. I learned yesterday that the precautions that were taken during my first c-section to prevent a blood clot (I have a clotting disorder, remember?) will not be taken this time. That leaves me a little nervous. I learned yesterday that I will have my outer incision closed with staples this time instead of sutures. That gives me the creeps. I learned yesterday that I won't be able to pick my baby boy up for 6 weeks after the surgery. He's going to feel emotionally abandoned. He's not going to understand. And how the hell, as a stay at home mom, am I supposed to get away with not picking him up? My husband will be home for a week following the surgery. My mom will be coming to stay for the week after that. Hubs wants to get "someone" to come in to help for the remaining 4 weeks, and by "someone" he's thinking a visiting nurse or somethingone along that line. Sorry, but no half-qualified foreign stranger will be coming into my home to dust my floors, let alone help with my son and baby daughter. He's telling me that we have to figure something out. No need - I'll go about my business, and if I happen to rip my incision, spilling the contents of my body all over my floor just because I need to pick my son up out of his crib - then so be it.

Unless I feel particularly inspired - don't count on it - to blog about something before next Wednesday, the day of the impending c-section of doom, this will likely be my last post as a mama to one. Updates can be expected once she's out. Stay tuned!


Lindsey said...

Good luck! I understand how the last days of pregnancy feel like fifty years. I was lucky enough to push my kids out without needing a C-section, even though they both had huge Polish heads, thanks to my huge-headed Polish husband. I blame them and him for my stretch marks and the fact that it sounds like the Hoover dam has burst when I pee. Too much info.? Sorry.
Hope all goes well! Hoard some sleeping time now!

Matter Of Fact Mommy said...

you'll pick up baby boy no matter what. and you'll be fine. you won't busy any stitches. if it makes you feel better to pick HIM up and hold HIM, then so be it.

i remember, just after my daughter was born... having almost mean and hateful feelings toward her. like, you little f-ing amoeba who needs to be attached to my nipple... can't you just STFU and go with grandma for a while?! i struggled for a good while after my daughter was born, but you get over it. you get past it. and the love for your 2nd is just as deep and meaningful as your love for baby boy. it's all good, hollywood.

you will do great and everything will be fine. ;) xoxo

Sara said...

I will be thinking of you tomorrow. Can't wait to see pics of your girl and find out the name!