And I thought I was crazy before

As much as I have always preached that a due date is NOT like an expiration date on a carton of milk, omgiamsodonebeingpregnantwtfbabywillyougetthefuckoutalready!!!!!!!!!!!! As of now, I’m 10 days past my EDD given to me by an OB; 6 days past the EDD given to me by a local crisis pregnancy center when I first found out I was pregnant and had no idea when I was due.

Either way, I’m a few days past sanity.

For a pregnancy that has been so physically easy, this wayyyyyyy past my due date thing is psychologically very taxing.

I really hate to think about my birth experience as anything other than flowers and rainbows and puppies, but at this point it seems like a means to an end. That will take place at home. While I’m surrounded by friends and My Chemical Romance — and even my mom! But still: means to an end, BABY!

Here’s my day:

1:00AM: Wake up to use bathroom. Note that the nightsweats are not, in fact, my water breaking. Check toilet for bloody show. None. Sigh. Go back to bed — if possible. If not, read some gossip online and eventually fall asleep.

4:00AM: Repeat.

4:30AM: My Chemical Romance’s alarm clock goes off (every 9 minutes until about 7am). Wake up and announce to him that I’m still pregnant. Cry. Ask for reassurance that I’m not going to be pregnant forever — and that if I am, he’ll still have time off work after the alleged baby is allegedly born.

8:00AM: Wake up to screaming from kids. My mom is here to wrangle them — arriving 5 days AFTER my due date, she was supposed to help me with the baby — and the luster has worn off for all of them. At least I don’t have to feed them breakfast. Thanks mom! Get out of bed. Note I’m still pregnant. Cry. Try to reassure myself that I won’t be pregnant forever. Shower. Moisture heavily — my house is DRY. Put on maternity clothes that I thought I’d be finished with weeks ago — or at least, if I was still wearing them, they would be postpartum clothes.

10:00AM: Drag kids somewhere. Discovery Place, the movies, library, errands. Pray that we’ll have to turn around and leave because I start feeling contractions… to no avail. Lunch.

1:00PM: Nap for The Informant, My Masterpiece (who naps in my bed with me), and me. Quiet time for Animal, Mineral, and Mom.

4:00PM: Make dinner/start thinking about where to go for dinner. Note that most of the day is over and apparently today isn’t the day I’m having the baby. Cry. Ignore phone calls, and don’t call anyone unless absolutely necessary, lest I have to start the conversation with, “I’m not in labor but…”

5:00PM: My Chemical Romance arrives home. Dinner. Post-dinner weepiness that I’m still pregnant. Negotiations with My Chemical Romance over who gets to put kids to bed. Check Facebook — although I’m not posting, because I have nothing to say except that I’m still pregnant and I’m tired of the comments about it.

7:00PM – 9:00PM: Eat. Watch TV. Knit scarf for Wii that should be done in a few years.

9:00PM: Get into bed with book. Note that I’m still pregnant. Cry.

Repeat.

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