The Honeymoon's Over

Suddenly the most constructive things I'm capable of are complaining and eating candy corn. Bless my poor hubby.

All the exciting new baby anticipation fizzled out, and everything changed for me on Monday, when the baby dropped and has since decided his head belongs deep down in my pelvis. I can't even describe the pressure his head is putting on my bladder and, most noticeably, my bowels. Imagine how you feel when you have the urgency to use the bathroom ... you don't have the patience or nerve for a conversation, a walk around Babies R Us, watching TV, folding laundry or sitting at your desk at work. It's a constant gotta go feeling, even though there's nothing down there that needs to come out, except a baby's head and maybe some giant maternity underpants.

I am tough, but I don't know how I'm going to deal with this for 15 more days (we're not going to even entertain the idea that he might come after his due date right now).

My nerves are wearing thin.

Pregnant women all over the internet solicit advice on ways to induce their own labors when they just can't take it anymore ... eating spicy foods, having sex, castor oil, constant walking, foot massages, nipple stimulation. I swear today at my OB appointment, when she asked if we had any other questions, I had to use every bit of sense I had to stop myself from saying, "I'd like to be induced. Now. And I'm not leaving until you do it." Instead, I sweetly asked, "Do you think he'll come soon?" Of course, she had no way of knowing and I knew that. Men walk on the moon. iPhones have a GPS with satellites to show you a picture of exactly where you're standing. Whole organs are being created from stem cells.

Nobody can predict when your baby will come. Can you imagine the money an irritated pregnant woman would pay to know that? I can.