Dear Poking-and-Prodding doctors/nurses,
I'm terrified of you and am SO not looking forward to Wednesday when you start your weekly "inspection" to see how far I'm progressing. I'd rather you left me alone until I'm in utter pain, in the hospital, and BEGGING for an epidural. Until that happens, I'd be much obliged if you kept your hands to yourself. Please oh please don't have Strep B. and be stuck with the penicilin drip. I can't take much more of your testing, blood-drawing, and interferring. Also, unless I'm 10 centimeteres dilated, please don't give me any updates. I'll just get way too excited if I'm dilated at all and will be useless because of anticipation.
In other better news, we MOVE on SATURDAY! Hello more-than-twice the space and a baby room/nursery. And by "we", I actually mean David will be the one moving because I'm too big and pregnant to be lifting or helping with anything (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! I've officially put myself on "maternity leave" whenever there is something I don't want to help with). A new(er) place right before Easter??...Things are definitely looking up. Now if I can just get motivated to finish the pumper pads I started 3 months ago, I'll be much closer to having our little man. Why do I get these crazy ideas in my head? I should have went to Babies R' Us and bought one already ready and assembled for me. Oh well, it will be adorable when I'm done. If not, I'll be running down there last minute on the way to the hospital because I like to procrastinate. Normally I'm not a procrastinator in the slightest, but when I'm nervous about things, I can ignore them for weeks on end. In fact, I'm still in denial about how babies are born. I'm waiting for the stork to arrive on my doorstep next month. ;)