On the Ball

I'm on the ball, but only in the literal sense. My contractions continue-- they're fairly frequent, but they've allowed me to do intermittent monitoring so I don't know EXACTLY how frequent but enough to make me start wondering WTF I was thinking when I agreed to a 2-3 day induction.

Truthfully, it's the time that wears you down. The time you've come from, and the time you know you have yet to go. And when I've just starting thinking that this is getting to be really frustrating, I realize that this round of cervadil doesn't feel all that different from the last so I may not be making any progress at all. I can be a good sport, but then I have these moments of... "what if this never ends?"

I can see how that's irrational, but there's this bit part of my mind that starts to wonder, "what if this is it? What if, for the rest of my life, I'm just That Girl Who Is Still Pregnant and Has Non-Productive Contractions Forever"? It'd be an interesting "how bizarre" news story and then everyone would go on with their lives while I would still be here, on this birthing ball, rolling around to pointedly increase my discomfort only to find out several hours later that it was all for naught.

I don't want to be Perpetual Contraction Woman. (PCW, for short.) There's nothing heroic about that. PCW wouldn't save anyone. She'd just lay around with contractions ranging from 3's to 6's on the pain scale. Enough to make doing anything else sort of annoying and miserable.

Anyway, it's time to eat the dinner I ordered. (Baked macaroni & cheese with broccoli, sugar-free hot chocolate, diet sierra mist, and apple pie for dessert.) It looks good-- and my mother is insisting that I eat it hot. Some things never change.