Less than a month...

Okay, deep breath. This has not been a good week, physically speaking. I thought it couldn't get any worse than sore hips, constant backache and multiplying stretch marks. I was PHENOMENALLY wrong. It got worse. Part of me is really embarrassed to write about it, but part of me can't help it. I need to share the horror of IT. Much to my hubby's chagrin, I am OBSESSED with talking about IT. Oh, and crying about IT (had a good little sob before trudging off to school this morning). There have been a few moans as well.

What is 'IT'???

IT, starts with an H and rhymes with 'roids'. IT, is a star in 'The Grapes of Wrath.' IT, is literally a royal pain in the a**. IT, is a hitchhiker that has been hired to kill me, slowly and painfully. IT, needs to go bother someone else... I HATE IT.

Not only has IT decided to stick around and make my life hell - I also had THE MOST embarrassing experience at my doctor's office this past week. For those of you whom I've already complained to about this, my apologies, this will be a bit repetitive. I am THAT scarred by it, that I can't help but keep repeating myself. I met with a different doctor on Wednesday for my appointment. REALLY hope she isn't the one who delivers our baby. I did NOT like her. It's the first time I met her, and she didn't even bother to introduce herself. I had the Strep B test done by her, and I felt humiliated afterwards. I was instructed to just pull my pants down around my ankles for her to do the oh so pleasant swab. No gown, no cover, nothing. She then told me to pull up my pants, to which I replied that it was easier said than done (still on my back at this point and quite honestly, haven't been able to reach my swollen ankles in weeks). Her wonderful response, while LAUGHING? "Oh, I guess I've left you in a pretty vulnerable position, haven't I?" AND she didn't even bother to help me up as I struggled to sit up. Entirely unpleasant. I told my hubby that next time I am seriously going to consider having a midwife instead. (rather, I'm convinced, it's just a matter of convincing him)

We had our first birthing class yesterday (which we were a few minutes late to, because someone decided I should be in charge of knowing where it was. Seriously - I'm nine months pregnant, did YOU really expect me to remember to write down the address?). Having a condensed session is not necessarily the best idea. The class are usually spread out over a number of weeks, and are usually only for a couple of hours a night. I enjoyed the class, but the only reason I think it would have been better on a week night is because of the aforementioned, no good, horrible, hitchhiker. Sitting for most of the day while suffering with my new sidekick was probably not such a good idea. Unpleasantness aside, I did learn a few things to help me cope with the upcoming labour pain. The class facilitator gave us an ice cube to hold on to, the idea being to see how we would cope with the pain (say, instead of asking us to slice our palms open and see how that feels...) . At first it WAS extremely painful to hang on to the ice cube, even with my sweaty palms (but damn, was I good at melting it...) However, we were then taught how to focus on seeing, hearing, touching and breathing, and before I knew it I didn't even realize that I had ice in my hand. It was all very Zen like, and it worked. THANK GOD. Not that holding ice really compares to being ripped apart at the seams, but I can try and tell myself it does, right? The husbands also got their turns to practice the 'Zen' like technique. Guess whose husband cracked up laughing (actually, it was more like girly-giggling, which he is REALLY good at), which then made ALL of the husbands start laughing? And guess whose husband, when asked to use pastels to make a sketch of how he envisions the journey of birth, MADE AN ABSTRACT SKETCH OF THE BOMBERS WINNING THE GREY CUP????!!!!!! It couldn't have been my husband...no, he's supposed to be 'edumacated.'

Of course with every birthing class, discussion of Cesarean sections tends to come up. I thought that I was relatively at peace with this. I don't want one, but if it is medically 'necessary' then I figured I'd be okay with it. Apparently not. I found myself tearing up throughout the WHOLE conversation about C-Sections. The facilitator told us to think about it more along the lines of a 'Cesarean birth' rather than as being cut open and the baby being ripped out. Well, semantics I say. A wonderful little euphemism at its finest. Sorry, but I am not easily convinced to think differently about something just because it is being called something different. I discovered that I am absolutely TERRIFIED to have a C-section. It is the ABSOLUTE last thing I want. I want to deliver naturally, without feeling like my child is being ripped out of me. I actually WANT the pain of natural labour, as many millions of women have endured it before me for thousands of years. I want to be part of that cycle. I look at it like a rite of passage, and I want to be an active participant. I don't want to be made to feel helpless. NO, I haven't decided to start drinking again - I am 100% lucid as I type this. I think I may be jinxing myself though...That tends to be how things work in my world. If I reallllllyyyy don't want something to happen, it usually does...

On the bright side of things...I am UNEMPLOYED! I know, most people don't think this is a happy time, but I have been counting down the days until I no longer had to work for the military. NEVER AGAIN. I will miss the money, but that's about it. I will NOT miss being reprimanded for asking questions. I will not miss the sheer boredom of cataloguing book after book. I will not miss the sexist and racist comments that cropped up when I least expected them. I will not miss being the only passenger on the logic train. I just will not miss it.

Now I can just focus on finishing my practicum. All fourteen school-days left of it. It may however suck all of the energy out of me first. Today was not too bad (only a handful of minor incidents today. Little bit of urine, little bit of blood...all in a day's work), and patience was on my side. By Friday, it will be BAD. My patience will have disappeared and started a long weekend without me. Although...there is a sub on Friday...muhahaha...sucks to be her.

And how is the little one? She is doing her best 'alien' impersonation. I'm not kidding. My belly is being poked and prodded from the inside out and it looks positively EERIE. I keep expecting a fist to punch its way through my belly button. She made my hubby yelp tonight! He had his hand on my belly while it was rolling and moving like a bowl of jelly, when he distinctly felt a limb move under his hand. I've felt this more than a few times, and in all honesty it usually makes me gasp in surprise too. She is running out of room and her movements are VERY noticeable now. I think she is a monkey. I think that we are definitely going to have our hands full with this little wiggle worm. DEAR GOD. What have we done?