I’m SO done.
Well, I’d like to think that I was, except for the fact that my dang belly button won’t pop out in a turkey-timer like fashion, announcing “ding! ding!! You’re done!!!”. Instead, it’s just shrunk to a freakishly-pin-sized hole that looks even freakishly smaller than it already freakishly is, seeing as how it is set on my freakishly oh-so-done-large belly.
Which makes me quite jealous of pregnant women with cute pokey-outey belly buttons. And so I often point out this unfairness.
To which they say, “Why would you want your belly button to pop out?? They just look like a nipple in the middle of your abdomen!!”
To which I have no response.
At any rate, belly-button-appearance aside, I’m done. The pain, both from contractions and from just being this pregnant, is getting increasingly unbearable.
I “only” have twenty days to go until guaranteed eviction, but if you ever feel like your life is flying past you at breakneck speeds, just be twenty days away from giving birth – it might as well be a thousand lifetimes of being forced to read whiny-pregnant-lady-blog-posts.
In fact, the last ten weeks of pregnancy have very distinct stages of coping with reality.
30 Weeks – So excited that very soon, you’ll be out of the double digits of weeks left – birth feels so close!!!
31 Weeks – Blissfully thrilled to be in single digits. In no time, you’ll be popping out that baby and done with the pregnancy part. And, after all, it hasn’t been SO bad, so nine more weeks is TOTALLY doable.
32 Weeks – Not as thrilled. Eight weeks sure seems longer than nine weeks did. Wishing for an eight week hibernation.
33 Weeks – Desperation and denial. Seven weeks is an impossibly long time. How could this go so slowly??
34 Weeks – Wondering if there are any nursing homes that would lend you a bed for a few weeks.
35 Weeks – A very important week: Thus begins the denial of The Reality that it probably wouldn’t be best to deliver at this point, and so starting the process of believing that your baby could come at any second from here on out.
Because really, the belief that it could happen any second is the only saving grace to your sanity once you get within 5 weeks.
36 Weeks – The Daily Prayers begin – begging of God for water breakage.
37 Weeks – Bargaining with God. Promising Him that you will raise the most Godly child ever in existence – if only He will let you start training that child, outside the womb, RIGHT NOW.
38 Weeks – Mall walking, trampolining, stair-stepping, and other such “active pursuits”, despite the near impossibility of such at this point, become daily activities – anything, anything, ANYTHING to move things along.
Also, bargaining with and attempted bribery of your doctor MIGHT happen during this week.
39 Weeks – Internet searches on all of the possible labor inducing tactics and old wives’ tales commence. You start weighing the safety of trying them all at once, continuously, for an entire day.
40 Weeks – Shock and disappointment that it didn’t happen ANY SECOND five weeks ago like you MOST CERTAINLY knew it would.
41 Weeks – Bargaining with the devil. Or so I’ve heard. I’m certainly not brave enough to ever make it to this week.
But at this moment, my coping mechanism of choice is the Any Second Mechanism.
No coping mechanisms past 36 weeks will matter, because I fully plan on my water breaking before I finish typing this sentence.
Okay – maybe before I finish this blog post.
At any rate, it’s about to happen.
It HAS to.
Because this just can’t go on any further.
The Physics of the Universe just wouldn’t allow it.
What’s that popping sound?? Is that my belly-button-turkey-timer??