If they don’t induce labor/schedule a c-section tomorrow, I am going to go postal. No, I wouldn’t call it that, that would look a little mild compared to what an impatient, in-pain, pregnant woman can do. I’m going to find some little old lady and hold her hostage in the emergency room, brandishing a scalpel (not really, just made me giggle to envision it, but then the little old lady beats me senseless with her purse filled with pill bottles, so it makes a funny rattling sound as it bounces off my skull.)
Everything hurts. The little monster is squishing every organ I own. He’s got a foot jammed under my ribs, and continually head butts my large intestine for fun. He’s got it pinned between him and my pelvis right now. Yippee. I lay awake for two fucking hours last night because he wouldn’t hold still. Whatever side I turned onto, that side was suddenly attacked from the inside. I know it’s a tight fit, but I don’t want him in there any more than he wants to be in there. I want him out. I tell him so regularly. I said look, figure out what little chemical reaction or whatever starts the contractions and the dialating and do it!!! It’s time for you to come out! There can be nothing comforting about such a tight little space. I’m almost five days over my due date, and people are wondering if I’ve still got like two months to go. He isn’t sticking out very far, he’s very snugly fit into my abdomen, killing off anything in his wake.
As I used to say in my journal, fuck this game, I want my quarters back!!!
