Baby #3 is on her way. Sort of. On her way in the sense that she's going to be evicted from her comfy home inside of me by the end of the week whether she likes it or not. Considering how my body is acting, I'm going to go with "not in the mood for giving birth/being born" as their collective views on the situation.
Waiting for labor to start is the worst possible way to start off a new year. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it isn't much fun. I have no energy to do anything, my moods are up and down, and I am acting off the charts CRAZY to my poor kids and husband. I'm worried about labor, I'm anxious about the state of my home, I fret about how my emotional turmoil is affecting those I love. I can't decide if I'm supposed to use commas or semi-colons in a sentence.
Waiting isn't much fun. Getting only one or two contractions a day isn't much fun - but it's better than getting several over the course of a few hours and then having them stop altogether. That wasn't nice at all, body, thanks for that little practical joke.
Anyway. Waiting. Still waiting for baby #3. Not sure if I'm ready - other than being ready to be not pregnant, that is. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, and we'll probably schedule an induction to get this party started.
I can't wait.
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