This Is Going to Get Ugly

I am almost 37 weeks pregnant. I am 1 cm dilated and 75% effaced. I am so exhausted that I have to talk myself into getting into the shower every day and brushing my hair. No make-up, thanks. I would rather set my hair on fire than to blow it dry. This baby is coming any day now, and there is a good chance I'm going to the hospital in my tank tops and pajama bottoms with dirty hair because I took a short cut in the shower.

About a month or two ago, I still thought I would stick to my resolve to have cute pictures of myself taken while in labor. You've seen those pictures on Facebook. Cute mom with make-up on. Curled hair. Calmly sitting in bed. Well, why I thought I would be like that the second time around, I have NO idea. My feeling now is that if you are able to have those pictures taken, you went to the hospital too damn soon and are going to catch the ebola virus and dyslexia. And OH, my GOD. My first labor was 4 hours long, and I am fairly certain that if Ryan had tried to pull a camera on me, my head would have spun around my head and had fire come out of my mouth. There will be no photos during my labor. None. I don't want to know what I look like after I've vomited and a head is about to pop out of me.

I know that The Books say I may experience bursts of energy and start Nesting. False. My only bursts of energy come when I have to get to the bathroom since my unborn child keeps bumping his/her head against my cervix. I occasionally get motivated to wash something or put a swing together because I realize, "Holy crap. This baby could come tomorrow and then I would have to put him/her in a car seat that hasn't had the cover washed... EVER!" or "OMG. The hospital bag! If I went into labor right now, I would have nothing to take to the hospital!".

A word about The Hospital Bag. There are a lot of suggestions of what to bring to the hospital. My suggestion? Bring it all. Realize that I am completely delirious though. Some of the items my husband has raised an eyebrow at but chosen wisely not to say anything about: flameless candles, a head massager, and stereo speakers. I stand by my choices. Ironically, the hair dryer is also packed.

The Books also say that women MAY experience occasional mood swings. Hmmm. Really? The only thing I've been moody about are Ryan's socks being stuffed inside each other, Ryan taking too long to take a shower, Ryan not leaving soon enough in the morning, Ryan doing the laundry wrong, and... Ryan. In moments of clarity, I think I need to get him a push present for the past 9 months. This is not a moment of clarity.

I remember reading that upper class women during the Renaissance were sent into confinement for the last month or so of their pregnancy. At the time I thought it sounded horrible. Boarded up windows? Locked into your room? Now I can't think of a more ideal scenario. It would be like a vacation! Sleep all day! Lounge in your pajamas! Read as much as you want! Oh, to be in confinement. Sigh.

That is all for today. I am going to wander around listlessly and wait for Henry to wake up.