Today I'm 41 Weeks, 2 days, or as the hospital staff refer to it, "term + 9". This week has been very difficult, with many hours of non-progressing contractions, restlessness, 2 'stretch & sweeps' and more crying episodes. Every morning when I wake up, still pregnant, I get more discouraged, frustrated and depressed. It's so hard to maintain enthusiasm when every day, you think this could be it, and every morning, you realise it wasn't. I'm scared of being induced, because I don't want the interventions to result in a c-section and difficult recovery, but I'm also scared of going through this prolonged early labour for many more days and then still ending up with a c-section, despite all of my efforts to avoid it.
Rationally, I know that once the baby is here, all of this will just be a blur leading up to the wonderful moment of meeting him/her, and it will all feel worthwhile. At the moment, though, that is seriously difficult to imagine. It is much easier to imagine being pregnant and uncomfortable forever, outgrowing my maternity clothes and never being able to drink alcohol again--because that is the life I've known for the past 41 weeks and 2 days, and I'm losing the ability to picture the next stage quite as clearly...
On a happier note, there are plans in the works to actually get the baby here within the next few days, and my mom's coming on Saturday. I can't wait to see both of them!
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