It’s kissing up on midnight so I can safely say that I’m confident I’ll make 35 weeks. Now the goal is 36. One week at a time, right?
Most people I know consider induction the “i” word. (maybe it’s tied with “intervention” but for many the two are inextricably linked).
Having had the random labor pains I’ve been having for a week now, I have to say that I am super grateful for the induction. I got the cytotec to soften my cervix, a shower, and then onto the pitocin (and soon after the epidural I’d been planning to get for longer than I’d been planning to have kids). I never spent hours randomly crying out and doubling over in pain. I’ve since had that joy and I’m kind of wishing I could just repeat my induction experience again–drugs, epidural, some pain but nothing on this scale, baby.
We have hit a point where if I go into labor on my own, even with the bedrest and such..I’ll just have the baby. But the problem with the sort of labor pains I’ve had is that they don’t mean anything–could have a baby tomorrow, could be 4 weeks and the planned induction. Which is also frustrating because I’m the planning girl. I just want to KNOW.
I don’t think Wheelie has engaged fully though because if anything my heartburn has gotten worse in the last week (which could also be a function of the amount of time I’m spending horizontal) even with zantac and other meds. The highlight of which was last night’s vomit-a-thon in the shower, covering myself in puke and clogging the drain. Which may in fact be one of the most humiliating experiences of my life to date.
I’m mostly documenting this so that in the event that I’m ever stupid enough to consider pregnancy again, I can be reminded in exquisite detail exactly how NOT FUN pregnancy is.