{Wrote this Saturday.  This blog is also my journal, so don’t expect this to be fun or interesting or anything else!  It’s purely for my own selfish purposes.}

So not my most favorite game.  Why do I listen to the doctor and get my hopes up?  I was right.  3 cm and 80% doesn’t mean ANYTHING.  I should know better.  I have braxton hicks like crazy, and lots of cramping.  My hips kill and feel like they’re going to dislocate.  Anything I swallow, prenatals included, gives me indigestion.  I pee 6082 times a day.  I’m bigger than a house, and I’m an emotional disaster.   

But in all honesty, I don’t necessarily know what I’m waiting for because I don’t know what a “real” contraction feels like!  With Samuel, my water broke 2 days after my due date, before any signs of labor (which I found out happens to only 8% of women–so much for hoping the same thing will happen this time.)  I remember driving to the hospital at 2:30 am and telling Erik, “Oh, maybe that was a contraction . . .”  Once checked in and on Pitocin, I only had back labor, which was atrocious.  The nurse said it was because of Sam’s position and the fact that I had lost my amniotic fluid.  I made it for maybe 30 minutes before getting that sacred epidural.

So here I sit, just waiting and waiting and waiting for something to happen.  I am so ready.  Samuel actually talks about the baby regularly, which is really fun.  He reminds me often that he gets to bring a monkey to “Baby Brudder.”  In all reality, I don’t think Sam has a clue what he’s in for.  Hehe.  But, probably niether do I!!  I just know I am so done with this part.  So so so so DONE.

Sam’s a tooter.  Last night I told Erik how Sam was whining and whining at me while I changed his diaper, then with his legs up in the air Sam let one loose, and laughed so hysterically, “Heh heh heh, I tooted.”  This morning Samuel totally let one rip and without missing a beat laughed again, “Sound like Daddy!”

This afternoon Samuel wanted a peek at the baby.  He lifted up my shirt and started his regular investigating routine: a little pat, a kiss, a good listen, a “Hi Baby,” a finger in my belly button . . . Then he looked at me and said, “Let’s pop it!”  Oh I wish, my darling, how I wish.