Feh.

Pretty sure my water has broken. Going to the hospital. This sucks. I know, WHO complains about having a baby AT 37 weeks, right?

Well, I do. My mom has taken her pills and gone to bed, so she can't drive over and spend the night. Jeremy's mom is sick, so she can't spend the night. So we get to wake Grace up and drop her at our pastor's house (OH MY GOSH I LOVE THOSE PEOPLE) and hope and pray she doesn't make their life a living hell tonight.

I have so much STUFF to pack, and I know I'm forgetting something essential, like pants or lipstick. ALSO. I do not have time to shave my legs. This is a crisis.

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Update: Definitely the real thing. Was having semi-regular contractions for a few hours, and then pffft. Nothing. So now I'm on pitocin, lest infection set in. This calls for some anger. Because pitocin makes it hurt more.

Also, the more I experience of this room (the same kind I started in last time), the more furious I am that I got moved to a different room after surgery. I have a really bright idea. Let's move the lady who had MAJOR SURGERY into a crap room with a shower that goes from hot to cold and back, causing me to nearly fall and rupture all my stitches.

This room has a beautiful deep tub with JETS and actual hot water and hand railings everywhere. I couldn't fall if I wanted to.

THIS room is like a hotel. Well, except that hotels don't have strange beeping machines or beds this awesome (birthing room beds really get a bad rap; I LOVE this bed). And once again my nurses are just lovely creatures of light. I want to kidnap them all.

And finally, OUCH. Not typing anymore for a while. Wish me luck and for NO C-SECTION (unless necessary, of course; I'm not holding on to the idea of NOT having a C-section just to not have a C-section, and I know very well that in my case it was necessary the first time and may be again).