I’m laying in bed on my left side. I’m so sick of laying on my left side I plan to never lay on my left side again just as soon as the baby comes out. My left ear is in agreement with this plan. It is sore and sick of being laid on.
My primary goals for today were to get muffins for a team retreat, get Nora to school, survive the team retreat with the help of adrenaline (and muffins) and somehow get back home. I managed all that. Go me.
My secondary goal is to attend a photo gallery opening for my dear friend, Gemela this evening. That goal is seriously in doubt.
Tuesday’s IV iron infusion has yet to show any effect except a nasty bruise on my arm — my perinatalogist says it will take a week to make any difference in my energy levels. This is bullshit. People who shoot up heroin would never stand for this. A needle in your arm should equal instantaneous results. I am outraged.
My hemorrhoids are out of control again. I’m tackling the problem with sitz baths, Tucks, colace and a magnesium drink. And lots and lots of pinto beans. Pooping should not be traumatizing. This should be a fundamental human right. Sadly, this issue is not on the UN’s radar.
Despite all of these complaints, I have much to celebrate. An epic string of appointments yesterday confirmed the baby’s heartbeat is strong and she has finally flipped into the head down position. I’m beginning to dilate and my blood sugars and insulin needs have stabilized for now.
Three weeks from today, I’ll be induced, but I have a feeling she’ll come of her own accord a bit sooner than that.
DO YOU HEAR ME, ALMA? MAMA HAS A FEELING YOU’LL COME A BIT SOONER THAN THAT. HINT, HINT.