They say for every good alcoholic there's at least one co-dependent in their lives.
My co-dependent's name is Jackson. He lives in my uterus and he won't leave. My body wants him to come out because it's been having contractions for many, many moons. Jackson, however, is not willing to vacate his happy place. His comfort zone. His place of enormous personal growth.
(breaking for contraction)
I've been contracting since 5pm. They have not become stronger. They are not closer together. They are not getting longer. They come about every 7 minutes just to piss me off and interrupt a viewing of the Chronicles of Narnia. They also interrupt my attempt to blog.
What brought on these contractions? Nothing. They just come when I'm having a good day and I'm enjoying not being in labour. See, now that we've gone beyond when I went into labour with Gutsy, I've accepted that the Spawn of Maven is never emerging from his pod deep inside my womb. Therefore, I've been going on about my life as best I can. The nesting instinct is huge right now. Today I sorted the boys' clothing in the following ways:
- Removed all summer clothing from Gutsy's and Intrepid's dressers.
- Put cold weather clothes in
- Placed clothing that is too small for Intrepid in a box for Gutsy
- Placed clothing that is too small for Gutsy in a box for InUtero Boy
- Sorted through another generous box of clothes for InUtero Boy from the Wailing Bros, washed and put away most everything
Then we went for a hike in the hills.
Then we came home and cleaned out my van, top to bottom.
Then we went inside and I did more laundry.
Then we ate dinner.
Then I started contracting.
(breaking for yet another contraction)
Come to think of it, there may be a teeny, tiny, iddy, bitty chance that I was busy enough to start these contractions. You know, the whole folding of laundry thing might have set them off or something.
I wonder if my doctor will be happy or upset that I went walking on a nature trail at nearly 39 weeks pregnant? I'll leave out the rocks and the mud and the roots. I could tell her it was cobblestone or something, if it'll make her not hit me with the blood pressure cuff.
I'm rather proud of me, personally. The other nature trail enthusiasts were probably a bit taken aback by a walking orca (I was wearing black and white today - quite stylish, really), but I'm sure it gave them something to talk about over tofu surprise later on. The important thing is that, as winded as I was, I could still manage it. It felt great! I should do that every day.
Or, um, not. But every week until this baby comes, anyway.
We still need to buy this boy a stroller. I wonder if that's what is holding back the birth. Maybe psychologically I feel he can't come until he has a stroller. I have a sling and a Snugli, but am not sure how to work the ring sling just yet. My subconcious could be keeping the contractions to a minimum until it's certain I won't drop the poor guy on the floor of the Old People Mall within the first week of his arrival.
Must get a stroller. Then I'm sure my hooha will open up like the Great Canyon...
(another *$#^@%! contraction)
...*ahem* sending the hatchling shooting out into the world. In five minutes, of course. Nice and quick, just like the other births *cough*
Edited to add: Not bad, eh? That entire thing only took me three seven minute intervals, or about 21 minutes to write. Proof that I have mad typing skillz, yo.
My co-dependent's name is Jackson. He lives in my uterus and he won't leave. My body wants him to come out because it's been having contractions for many, many moons. Jackson, however, is not willing to vacate his happy place. His comfort zone. His place of enormous personal growth.
I've been contracting since 5pm. They have not become stronger. They are not closer together. They are not getting longer. They come about every 7 minutes just to piss me off and interrupt a viewing of the Chronicles of Narnia. They also interrupt my attempt to blog.
What brought on these contractions? Nothing. They just come when I'm having a good day and I'm enjoying not being in labour. See, now that we've gone beyond when I went into labour with Gutsy, I've accepted that the Spawn of Maven is never emerging from his pod deep inside my womb. Therefore, I've been going on about my life as best I can. The nesting instinct is huge right now. Today I sorted the boys' clothing in the following ways:
- Removed all summer clothing from Gutsy's and Intrepid's dressers.
- Put cold weather clothes in
- Placed clothing that is too small for Intrepid in a box for Gutsy
- Placed clothing that is too small for Gutsy in a box for InUtero Boy
- Sorted through another generous box of clothes for InUtero Boy from the Wailing Bros, washed and put away most everything
Then we went for a hike in the hills.
Then we came home and cleaned out my van, top to bottom.
Then we went inside and I did more laundry.
Then we ate dinner.
Then I started contracting.
Come to think of it, there may be a teeny, tiny, iddy, bitty chance that I was busy enough to start these contractions. You know, the whole folding of laundry thing might have set them off or something.
I wonder if my doctor will be happy or upset that I went walking on a nature trail at nearly 39 weeks pregnant? I'll leave out the rocks and the mud and the roots. I could tell her it was cobblestone or something, if it'll make her not hit me with the blood pressure cuff.
I'm rather proud of me, personally. The other nature trail enthusiasts were probably a bit taken aback by a walking orca (I was wearing black and white today - quite stylish, really), but I'm sure it gave them something to talk about over tofu surprise later on. The important thing is that, as winded as I was, I could still manage it. It felt great! I should do that every day.
Or, um, not. But every week until this baby comes, anyway.
We still need to buy this boy a stroller. I wonder if that's what is holding back the birth. Maybe psychologically I feel he can't come until he has a stroller. I have a sling and a Snugli, but am not sure how to work the ring sling just yet. My subconcious could be keeping the contractions to a minimum until it's certain I won't drop the poor guy on the floor of the Old People Mall within the first week of his arrival.
Must get a stroller. Then I'm sure my hooha will open up like the Great Canyon...
...*ahem* sending the hatchling shooting out into the world. In five minutes, of course. Nice and quick, just like the other births *cough*
Edited to add: Not bad, eh? That entire thing only took me three seven minute intervals, or about 21 minutes to write. Proof that I have mad typing skillz, yo.