So, we're now just playing the waiting game. In a way, it's been pretty nice to have time to get things accomplished, but at the same time, after the fifth round of vacuuming the house and swiffering the dogs, there's only so much you can do. That being said, here's what we've been up to...
I peed in what I assume was, my final plastic cup. Upon doing so I had a strange nostalgic feeling. The hospital where I go has a little window in the bathroom, where you put your urine sample after you're done. I swear they have some EFFICIENT employees working on the other side, because no longer than three seconds after closing the little door, I hear someone with catlike reflexes snatch up that cup and take it for...processing? Who knows what they even DO with it over there.The thing is, I realized I will NEVER KNOW these ultimate urine ninjas. How unfair is that? I feel like we've developed a relationship and I'll never put a face to the hand that snatches up my deposit. I have another appointment on Friday, and I don't know that I have to do another urine test, but if I do, perhaps it might be an idea to bring some baked goods. Follow me here: I could easily pretend to open and close the door, then fling open my side when I hear them come to collect the sample. Sure, they might be shocked to see my face instead of a cup of pee, but after some brief introduction, I could gift them with said baked goods and thank them for all of their hard work. I bet nobody ever thanks them. I bet they'd never forget that exchange. Let me know if anyone has feedback. Perhaps a good lawyer when they file restraining orders/harassment charges against me.
I'm the farthest along in the class, and I'm pretty sure every time they see me they think, "Oh, she's still here?" We have our final class tomorrow night, so (if we make it) I'm sure I'll get a few looks.
I officially began maternity leave.
- 6:00am: Greg wakes up for PT. I sit up for a minute in solidarity, showing my support for the poor guy's early wake-up. I grunt, laboriously change from my left side to my right side, and promptly pass back out.
- 7:30am: Greg returns from PT to shower and eat breakfast. I assume a good housewife would have been up welcoming him home with bacon and eggs. Good thing I'm new here. In reality, he walked into the bedroom to find me shoving a granola bar into my face and trying to pick off the chocolate that I got on the white sheets. This would have been less embarrassing had I not done the exact same thing the morning before, necessitating a trip to the laundromat.
- 10:15am: I pretend to be conscious for the short amount of time that Greg is home. This is arduous work and as soon as he leaves, I drift back to sleep for a while before forcing myself to finally wake up. Waking up requires a minimum of thirty minutes spent on social media, obviously. I finally climb out of bed. What will make me feel accomplished? Getting dressed, of course! I put on my finest pair of maternity shorts, my least real-feeling bra, and whatever shirt doesn't also have chocolate on it. Win!
- 10:20am: The doorbell rings. Who the hell is that? We don't get visitors except for the UPS man who brings me my multiple daily Amazon Prime packages. Apparently it's a man here to read the water meter. Housewife win: I somehow had the intuition to have a bra and something other than sweatpants on, mere moments before his arrival. Housewife fail: I let him in without thinking twice OR looking for proof that he is a legit employee of the water department. Welcome to my home, stranger! Jewelry is upstairs!
- 11-3:00pm: I have no recollection of what really went on during this time period. Mostly because it involved consuming carbs with melted cheese and catching up on the TV shows I can't watch around Greg for fear that he will jump off of the roof. But I do know that one point I thought, "What is the most housewife thing I can possibly do now?" The answer was obviously laundry. After ironing five shirts, I considered my work done. The rest of the day involved a lot more lounging and snacking. All in all, I'd say it was a successful day. I have this housewife thing down to a science.
Symptoms: Still feeling mostly good. I've been going on regular walks with my pal Sara, who is a master at making others go into labor. The heartburn continues, and I'm pretty sure it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Other than that, I have no complaints, nor dare I make any in fear that karma will come back to bite me as it has done in the past. I've learned my lesson!!
Labor signs: Still not much going on - that I notice anyway. Which was quite the surprise to my doctor and the nurse when they told me I was three centimeters dilated. I told them I haven't felt any contractions whatsoever, and they asked a few times if I was absolutely sure. It's been 24 hours since then, and I still can't claim that I've had any, so at this point I'm assuming this kid will just fall out of me and we'll call it good, right?
Stretch Marks: Still cursing myself for ever opening my mouth. The stretch marks continue to develop and mark their territory. Also, I have a bone to pick with everyone who has ever gotten them as well. Why didn't you tell me that they don't just magically appear, but actually feel like Satan branding you with tiny torturous lightning bolts?
What's next: Another appointment on Friday in which we will "weigh our options" should I not be progressing any further. That means the stork comes and drops off my perfect angel of an infant that loves sleeping and detests crying, right? Right. Sounds good to me.