A Watched Uterus...

...will never contract.

I'm pretty sure there's a proverb like that, right?

Actually, lack of contractions is not my problem. It's more like "lack of regular and powerful contractions."

If you didn't read my earlier post, here is a link to it. http://taraewald.blogspot.com/2011/12/dr-jekyllmr-hyde.htmlThis should update you on what has been happening. Reader's Digest condensed version: prodromal labor.

Also, I have an induction scheduled for 7:30 AM on Friday, December 30. So at the very least I'll have a baby at the end of this week.

Physically, I'm in a better state than I was at the beginning of the week. I feel stronger, more rested, and able to eat. That's a good thing for whenever labor finally really happens.

Emotionally, I'm past Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde and into...someplace worse. Or to be more accurate, I have hit bottom (I think) and have now started to resurface.

I don't come onto my blog to post a rosy version of my life, so I'm just going to be honest and say that I've been in an awful mood for the past three days. I've vacillated between intense anger at 1) myself in general 2) my uterus in particular 3) my unborn child (nice, right?) and 4) God 5) my husband (not sure why, it must be his fault somehow) and 6) everyone else on this planet.

I've been deeply depressed, complete with crying jags. I've managed to convince myself that my child is bound to be a problem child that I will never understand and that we aren't in sync the way Addie and I were and are. And believe me, that's depressing. I've been filled with nervous energy that sends me into a frenzy and then completely lethargic for hours at a time.

Basically, I am MomZilla.

And if I haven't answered your very sweet texts, emails, calls, carrier pigeons, it's not because I don't appreciate the thought and the time... it's just that I'm so volatile, that I really honestly couldn't talk about all of this until right now for fear that I'd start screaming and throwing myself on the nearest available person and throttling them a la Steve Irwin on a large crocodile.

Anyway, that was then. I think...I hope...I pray...that I'm over the worst of the insanity. When I think about why I am reacting this way, I think there are a few things at work.

As any pregnant woman knows, you're subject to some crazy hormone surges at the end of your pregnancy and right after delivery. I can actually feel anger flooding through my system and taking me hostage. Ask Tim about the morning this week that the sun flooding into our kitchen sent me into a rage. I can feel it happening, but I'm not really sure what to do with it. I usually just have a small tantrum and then slump in relief when it's over. So that's part of it.

The other part of it is true grief that my plans didn't work out. I suppose I should admit to a slight character flaw here...I really like for things to work out the way I've imagined them. I have a great imagination and I'm capable of really pinning my hopes on things that may not actually be within my control. Like...when I go into labor and the days following said labor.

I never thought I'd get to have my family with me when I went into labor. I never thought they'd be able to visit us in the hospital or witness Addie meeting her sibling for the first time. That's one of the drawbacks of living far away. You have to plan for "when the baby is definitely here" which means giving up on those "firsts".

Except that this year, I thought it would work out because everyone was spending Christmas here...except for Desi, who had to work. That was sad, but it was still a lot more than I'd ever hoped for...it was like this really impossible dream was coming to come true and I was so so happy about it. Really really ridiculously excited and happy and grateful and sort of overflowing with joy.

Which is awesome...except when it doesn't work out the disappointment is sickening and so lowering. Because Dad got sick. And Dillon had to stay with him. And Jordan has already had to go home. And my Mom has very few days left. And I have no baby yet.

And the disappointment was so huge and crushing and my own attempts to go into labor were so frenzied and I put so much pressure on myself that I really didn't enjoy Christmas at all. In fact, we had Tim's family over for brunch on Christmas morning, and I managed to really personify the Christmas cheer at the end of the meal. Everyone was going for a walk and Tim was urging me to go and made the mistake of saying it would put me in a better mood. To which I roared "I am in a good mood, God d**n it!"

Yes. Clearly.

I kind of laugh at that memory, because let's face it, if you can't laugh, you'll just cry. And I'm tired of crying. At some point, you just have to come to an acceptance of the fact that you can't always make perfect plans or even good plans.

And that's been the story of this whole pregnancy, to be honest. I didn't plan for ANY of it to be like it has been, at either extreme of the wonderful and the awful. I didn't think I'd be pregnant so soon after a miscarriage. I didn't think I'd face bleeding and pelvic rest at 11 weeks. I didn't think I'd be so dilated so early. And I didn't think I'd be so overdue. I didn't think I'd be looking at an induction, which is the exact opposite of the natural childbirth I've been preparing for for months. I must be a slow learner, because I'm still trying to plan and prepare and the real lesson of my pregnancy seems to be "Let go and let it be."

So here I am, working through my tangled emotions on good old patient Blogger and trying to let it be what it's going to be. It has been an arduous process, but I'm sure that it was a necessary process. I wish I could say it's the last time I'll have to learn this lesson, but it's definitely too soon to say that! In any event, this will be continued, sooner rather than later...and in the meantime, if you're so inclined, you can pray for family's continued patience with my volatile self!