D-Day +2

I have to admit how easy it comes to want to just start crying about my poor, sad, pitiful situation; you know, being late to give birth! I feel like the universe has control over me and that soon it must, it must loosen it's grip on me and let me be a sane person again. Complete with hands and feet that do not swell, and a non-bulging abdomen to follow around. Oh let the contractions begin. Pain - I bid thee come!

Oh the joys of the hospital - yes I actually like going to the hospital. Weird, I know. I want to smell the sterile and somewhat cafeteria-like smell of the hospital. I long for the breeziness of the lovely blue hospital gown. I can't wait to make the nurses have to fiddle with the baby monitor forever because my stomach is too huge for it to stay in place for more than two contractions. I wish for trips to the bathroom where I must demand my slippers because it'd be too gross to go barefoot. I'm dying to meet the nurse (for better or for worse) who will monitor me through my whole labor process. I wonder what weird questions I will come up with to ask her when I am in the middle of a contraction, or just hooked up to my epidural. And I can't wait for the moment when my child is born and they hand her to me. They'll lay her on a freshly-warmed blanket on my chest and I'll take in the newness of the child I've been getting to know the past nine months.