Thursday, March 22, 2007


So, Mr./Miss Baby. 3 centimeters. 80% effaced. You are docked at "0" in my pelvis. What's the big holdup, huh? Oh, it's your dad's birthday tomorrow? You want to make a grand entrance? Ok, I get that. So see you tomorrow, right?

Courtesy of the global warming, last night was deliciously warm so we decided to take advantage of the relatively low humidity and mosquito factor and went to Celtic Crossing. The patio was great, and because I was at an irish pub my gestational diabetes, like leprechauns and Brigadoon, all of a sudden didn't really exist, so I ordered up the fish and chips. I really just had the fish, light on the chips because the guilt factor was too high, but when I say I went light on the fish, fish didn't go so light on me. Last night was a bit rough. For the past 3 months, I've mainly eaten pretty lean meats and veggies and salads and peanut butter, so I don't think my body knew what to do with the influx of comfort food. Up and down to the bathroom, bleary with antihistamine. Woke up at five with my stomach still feeling weird. Then it just gets weirder when your husband is excited by the fact your bowels are basically having a goong out of business sale, because in his book, this means the baby is coming. I think it just means I need to stick to salads.

Though, last night was weird. I don't know how to talk about it without being disgustingly graphic, but - i'll do my best here - when I was having my, uh, episodes? I swear I felt my cervix opening and kinda staying open. With some pain. And then it closed, or stopped. You know? It YAWNED. That's the best way to describe it. My cervix yawned. So you see, baby? Even my CERVIX is getting bored with these shenanigans.

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