Grumpy Gills

You know those moments when you hate someone so much

and you just want to tell them to "go to hell" or "check your facts"

but the only thing you can really do is cry?

I had that moment yesterday.

And the person on the receiving end of my odd silence was someone who I truly do appreciate

and I respect him beyond this world.

Last week when I went in for my 37 week appointment the doctor told me I had lost a pound

(at that moment I nearly hugged him) 

and that I was also measuring 40 weeks.

The week before I was measuring right on at 36 weeks

so I grew 4 cm. in a week.

A WEEK!

That's a lot people.

He told me when I came back for my 38 week appointment we would need

to do an ultrasound to measure the size of this baby,

and he didn't want my first one to be "the record breaker".

and the more reasons he could find to get this baby here sooner he would use to get me induced early.

I. Was. Ecstatic.

to say the least.

When I made my appointment for 38 weeks I had to make it 2 days earlier than normal

due to my work schedule and the ultrasound tech's hours.

This meant I was going in only 5 days after my last appointment.

I was a little worried that he wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear,

but my baby was measuring 40 cm and I was really counting on that working out for me.

After my ultrasound he told me that this baby was 8lbs.

EIGHT! I'm only 37.5 weeks and my baby is 8lbs.

He said that could be off a little in either direction, 

and I'm assuming, with my luck, this baby is bigger than 8lbs.

and then the student measured my stomach, and I was measuring 38 weeks.

Tell me right now how that adds up. It doesn't, but I just wanted to carry on with the appointment so I didn't ask questions about that.

He pointed out my swollen feet for the millionth time and the student Doctor expressed her concerns about

how swollen they were. 

I honestly don't think she's seen such fat feet before.

He reminded her the swelling was part of pregnancy and then she told him

I have trace amounts of protein in my urine, and I have for a few weeks.

(News to me, and I got excited about that because that means preeclampsia or toxemia, and that means get this baby out asap)

But then he said it's not enough to worry about, and everything looked just fine and I didn't have either.

He then checked me and told me that I'm progressing. 

I'm 3cm and 80%, up from 5 days ago when I was 2cm and 70%.

I know that should get me excited but it doesn't.

People dilate and efface way before they actually go into labor.

I could stay here until I'm 42 weeks along 

(but clearly we all know that I am NOT waiting that long)

This is when I got pissed.

This is when I nearly just started crying.
This may be TMI, but it's my blog so deal with it.
Then he said next week they would strip my membrane if I would like.
I did manage to say, in my most pathetic voice "Can't we do that's today"?
I think I caught him off guard, who really wants their membrane stripped?
This girl.
So he did. Now I am 3cm, 80% effaced, and -2.

He said he would schedule an inducement date for around 39 weeks

but he wouldn't tell me what day it is for until my next appointment.

In a week.

I couldn't even find the words to beg him to tell me. I was literally chocking back the tears, not from the pain, but gosh did that hurt, but because I was so upset.

And that made it even harder to breath.

How was I having an 8lb baby already? and Why am I the only one concerned about the massive size?

The longer he is in there the more weight he is going to gain.

The more weight he gains, the more weight I gain, and it's that much harder for me to do anything.

He handed me my paper to schedule my appointment for next week and said

"See you next week, hopefully sooner!" with his ear to ear smile and ever so cheery, happy, peppy voice.

So I just whispered "thank you" and like that he was out the door.

I just sat there for a few minutes and got my composure,

struggled while I tried to put my pants back on.

I even thought about calling him back in the room to have him watch how hard it is for me to get dressed

because I think that's a good reason to get induced. That and an 8lb baby.

I can't lift my feet past the middle of my opposite calf, and I can't bend down that far to pull up my pants.

Imagine that sight, accompanied by some grunting and cursing.

Needless to say, I'm done. This baby is very much big enough to survive on the outside,

and I've got the necessities prepped and ready for him.

The only thing left that absolutely needs to get done is a real good house cleaning before he gets here.

But have I mentioned I can't bend over? 

Please pray for us.

Pray that this baby comes,

and my husband doesn't kill me.

or himself for that matter. 

Poor guy.

And because no blog post is good without pictures, here's a few really flattering pictures of a whale for you.

Oh wait, those are pictures of me, on the ladder, painting the babies room. That's how much I love you baby,

37.5 weeks pregnant and I painted 95% of your room by myself because I'm impatient.

and I thought it would induce labor.

It didn't.

But at least your room isn't completely white anymore.

You are welcome.

And the last picture is Chief and I on our walk.

He is fat and lazy too and get's to lay down to wait for the lights to change color.

Lucky dog.

But this picture is to show how fat my feet really are.

I finally feel like this picture almost does it justice.

Almost.

You've made it this far?!

I'm shocked.

I've rambled on for a long long long time now.

I hope your week is much more comfortable than mine!