Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Desperate For a Break.

Well, since it's all started early this morning, might as well deal with the insomnia through blogging.

Up early this morning.  The dude left for his small group, and lets be honest, once I'm woken up these days in the early morning, there is no going back to sleep.  I wake up, I lay here trying to go back to sleep, but the nausea comes rushing in, and it's all over.  It's to the point now where the husband has to bring me food to my bed every morning before I can even get up.  If I get up before eating something with protein, it is 100% that I am going to be puking so much by the time I get downstairs that I won't be able to even stomach the kitchen or the fridge to get myself some food.  The funny thing is, if I do eat breakfast, there is still a 98% chance I will be vomiting shortly after, but this time, instead of just puking up white stomach foam, it's full on chunks.  Yuck.  This week, it's a 100% chance no matter what I do, but still, I hold out hope that my man will come back in our room in a half our, and feed the beast.  Something inside me tells me this will make it all better.  Ha!  I'll be naive for now.  His small groups are supposed to last til almost 8, but this season I have made him come home at 7:15 so he can help me get through my morning puke session, and help launder whatever needs to be decontaminated from that mornings upchuck.  I know.  He's a saint.

OF COURSE what's on my mind this morning, besides trying not to vomit of course, is the fact that I am going to have to deal with this monotony for so much longer.

I honestly don't think people who never make it to, or go past their due date understand how lucky they are.  No really.  They don't.  And they shouldn't pretend to understand how hard it is to go 2 weeks past your due date.  Yes, they can try to sympathize, that is fine.  But until you live through going PAST your due date, by any significant length of time, you don't know the torture.

People all around me start popping out their kids, ON THEIR OWN, anywhere from 37 - 39 weeks pregnant.  Why is it that I have to go to at least 41 weeks, 4 WEEKS LONGER than some of these lucky women, to then even get to have the possibility of induction.  Let's be honest.  If they let me, my body would go at least 44 weeks before jumping in and doing something productive, but by that time, I don't even know if the child within would still be alive.

God where in your wisdom to you think it's a good idea for me to keep going in this pregnancy?  I guess it has to be one of those 'unseen' things I'm supposed to focus on.  I never saw the purpose behind you keeping the girls in for so long.  AND, why is it that being patient and waiting on you never seems to work for me in this situation.  After Auryn, when I was induced at just 9 days post due date, I thought maybe I had rushed things, so with Kadence I believed:  I'll just be patient, and wait for God's timing, she'll come on her own.  My body was designed to do this.  It knows what it is doing.  I just have to be patient.  I just have to wait for nature to run its course.  You know what.  That's a load of crap!  I waited and waited and waited, and guess what.  I got to 13 days past my due date, and had NO promising signs of starting labor on my own any time in the next hundred years.  THEN, the poor kid was born HUGE, with long fingernails I had to cut hours after birth, and dried up skin from cooking so long.  Her skin was peeling off in huge THICK layers for weeks after birth.  She was way past done.  What good reason did my body have of holding her in there longer?  What good reason did God have to keep her in there for?  What was the purpose of me waiting and waiting and waiting to have her in 'HIS' time, if 'HIS' time was never, freaking, going to come.

So, at the start of this pregnancy, I made a plan.  Stupid me.  Plans never work.  I held this one alot more openhandedly in the past, but honestly, this plan seemed to be totally plausible.  I decided that I would be induced at 39 weeks.  Really, what is the point of going to 42 weeks if a baby is 'ready' to come out at 39 weeks.  There were many reasons for this plan:  I have a husband who has to work his ass off when I am pregnant because I can't even feed myself alone.  I have two other kiddos to care for, who get severely neglected when I am sick and pregnant.  Reduction in baby weight.  Less tearing.  Less stretch marks.  Planned childcare for my girlies.  Ending to gallbladder symptoms.  Ending to the vomiting.  On and on and on and on.  Saving my mental sanity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  DUH.  That tops them all!

My doc even thought it was a good idea, and was TOTALLY on board last week.   So WHY OH WHY LORD did she change her freaking mind between then and now.  Why did she not even consider it yesterday?  Oh ya, cause my body is doing NOTHING towards getting this baby out.  NOTHING AT ALL!  Ya, all those contractions that keep my up at night: doing nothing.  All of the 'natural' remedies I've been trying to get him out: nothing.

So now.  I get to puke my way towards 42 weeks, just PRAYING that he will come ALIVE someday before then.  Please Lord keep him alive.

There are TONS of things women have to deal with when they arrive to and pass their due date that those lucky millions don't have to that never make it to their EDD.

Fear is one of them.  Every day, waking up, praying for movement.  Praying that this dang placenta is still working for him.  That is emotional torture.  The chances of still birth are so much higher after 37 weeks, and SO much higher after 40.  It is a really horribly scary thing to have to go through.

And on top of everything else.  Puking for 2 weeks longer than I thought I was going to have to.  Having to be a horrible wife and mom for 2 weeks longer.

Feeling defeated.  Feeling scared.  Feeling sad.  Obviously impatient.  Feeling like I DESPERATELY need a vacation, a mental mommy recharge.  Oh wait, you need money for those things.  Ya, we don't have two nickels to rub together (a whole other lame part to my life right now).  So ya, just stuck here.  In the middle of the desert.  Feeling miserable.  Feeling hopeless.  Just waiting for a baby.

How long?

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