And Nacho, of course.
This entry was originally going to be about the worst Comcast experience I ever endured, but who cares about that now. I WISH that were my biggest complaint!
Yesterday I had another follow-up OB appointment and SAHPRISE! I went from being 2cm dilated two weeks ago to 4cm. I’m sure it has something to do with falling down the stairs like a drunk. Go me. So they put me in the hospital for monitoring… I know this is the best place to be, and the hospital I’m at is really nice but it is so depressing. I just want to go home.
I think I’m going to be here until at least Monday, but I don’t know how much more of being hooked up to an IV and peeing in a hat and fluid intake monitoring and waddling around in a gown with my ass hanging out I can take. 
It’s weird being laid up in a hospital bed when you feel totally fine…
I’m trying my best not to be whiny and to just get over it, but when I think about home and my animals, all I want to do is cry.
WHEW! Today I am 31 weeks pregnant. Our little meatball is growing like a weed!
My biggest gripe lately is that all this weight on my front is KILLING my back. By the time Shawn gets home from work I’m one big ball of whinning because no matter how I sit or what position I get in, it hurts so so bad.
I’m going to try not to be so lazy about taking pictures of The Belly. I got my wireless remote working (the batteries were dead) so hopefully it won’t be such a pain from now on.
Last week’s dr. appointment was a good one, they were excited that I’d made it past 28 weeks with no contractions or any more complications. Layla is measuring a week ahead, that little tub tub!
I have another appointment tomorrow that will hopefully be more good news to report 
God. This is getting rough. My big ass can hardly breathe, let alone move.
There are things about being pregnant that I honestly enjoy. I love feeling the baby move, I love seeing her when I go to the doctor. I love buying things for her and getting the nursery ready.
I do not love the crazy ass emotions that come along.
The other day I actually cried because someone docked Bubba’s tail and cropped his ears (WHY? WHY would you do that to a poor puppy?). Last Friday, The Land Before Time came on TV and I cried through all 69 minutes of it. Come to think of it, just about anything on TV makes me cry. It is out of control.
Then there’s the grumpiness. Everything irritates me and then I get even more irritated that I’m irritated. This evening Lola Bean stole my chicken off the coffee table and I got so mad I’m surprised I didn’t go into labor. But then I remembered that I had a big piece of chocolate cake in the kitchen and everything was better. So I cried out of sheer joy. Kidding. I should keep some chocolate cake on hand for these situations, though, because in my condition I definitely don’t need to get so damn worked up over chicken.
Speaking of my “condition” I’ve been to the doctor twice since my last entry and so far things are looking the same, which is fabulous. I’m still keeping off my feet, working from home, and being bored as hell.
I haven’t been to work in close to a week. I would like to say that it’s been a nice little break, but it hasn’t really. On Thursday I went in for an appointment with my OB/GYN that was scheduled before I even knew I was pregnant, just a routine exam. I thought I would be in, out, and on my way to work.
That was not the case. My doctor discovered that at 25 weeks pregnant, I am dilated 2cm. I immediately sat up and said “Uhh, that’s not good, is it?”
Turns out that no, it’s not good at all. I have been poked, prodded, and probed more in the past week than any one person should ever be.
I haven’t experienced any contractions whatsoever and a fetal fibronectin test confirmed that no, I’m not in labor. Everything is alright, it’s just that I have a gimpy cervix. From what I understand, it’s short and the weight of the baby is putting a strain on things, which means I’ve got a lot of sitting on my ass to do. I’m seeing a fetal maternal medicine specialist who has instructed that I am not to be on my feet for more than 10 minutes at a time a few times a day. A lazy person’s dream.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll do whatever I can to keep this little meatball in my belly, but it’s frustrating that I’m not supposed to be doing anything. Suddenly I’ve got all this time on my hands that can’t really be put toward anything other than getting fat. And getting fat is just what I’m doing. But when it boils down to it, who really cares?
Absolutely nothing, from doing the dishes to going to work, can begin to compare to how important it is that our baby comes into this world healthy and happy.
