Two and a half weeks ago, I went to the Doctor's and he told me that I was still completely closed, or in other words, baby was still a ways a way. The next week, I went to the Doctor and he told me I was 1-2 centimeters dialated and my cervix was 80% thinned. The baby had also dropped, so Dr. Young told me it could be another week, or I could have the baby before my next appointment. Well, my next appointment came. I had done all of the tips to speed up labor, so I was expecting at least a little progress. However, when he checked me last Thursday, I was exactly the same as I was the week before--2 centimeters dialated and 80% thinned. Dr. Young said my body wasn't moving as fast as he thought and so it could be another 1-2 weeks. I was devastated.
After leaving my appointment I cried in my car for a good 15 minutes. After the 15 minutes, I thought I was calm enough to drive, but pretty soon I needed to pull over again. I drove to Nielson's Grove, a favorite park of mine, and cried for another 20 minutes. Luckily, my mom helped me manage my emotions for the rest of the day. I've been handling my emotions better since then, but every day that goes by without a baby in my arms is still frustrating.
So, today I am 39 weeks pregnant and I still don't have any sure signs of my baby coming. I really don't want to be pregnant any more. I've had three separate days of intense nesting and now I have very few things I can think of to deep clean. I scrubbed my kitchen floor on my hands and knees for an hour and a half. Linda has helped me deep clean all of my kitchen appliances including my fridge. Spencer helped me clean out and reorganize the pantry. Spencer and my dad helped weatherized my home the other day. Only thing left I can think of to deep clean is the furnace filters and heater vents. However, my body seems to even want to take away my productivity.
I feel like my body has been hijacked and I really want it back. Most days, I'm in pain. It used to be that I was just uncomfortable, but now I literally hurt. I've had lots of contractions, but they don't come in close enough intervals to justify a trip to the hospital. The contractions that I have had have been painful and so now I'm sore. Spencer was talking to me about exercising and we realized that I'm probably sore because I've basically been doing intense sit-ups all week. My back hurts intensly during those contractions and then it also hurts constantly while I try to tow around my growing and sagging belly. I've been nauseas almost every day and my feet swell. Sleeping is difficult and I would much rather prefer waking up to feed a baby instead of waking up to pee and then try to find a comfortable position for sleeping. I've had quite a few nights where I've woken up at like 1 am to go to the bathroom and then I've not been able to fall back asleep for 2-3 hours. Getting ready exhausts me so I do the bare minimum. I feel big and ugly. Even some of my sweetest moments with Spencer are interrupted with, "Ugh, you're squishing Sadie." I'm at the point where I am simply miserable.
Needless to say, I feel like there is very little I can do to help my self feel better phisically, so I've been trying to work on my mental and spiritual happiness. I've been praying a lot lately and the Lord answered some of my prayers in an interesting way the other day. I was watching food network and I was reminded of a time when I really wanted to make gooey chocolate chip cookies. At Provo High, I used to buy chocolate chip cookies that were freshly baked, warm, and always wonderfully soft. When I made cookies at home, they always seemed to flatten out like a pancake and then they would be crunchy. So, I decided I would just try cooking them for less time. I pulled the cookies out early and tried to scrape them off the pan to cool. Well, they fell apart into a sticky mess. I tried tasting them anyway and then realized I was just eating warm dough. Looking back, I realized not cooking the cookies long enough was not the solution to my problem. Not only did the cookies fall apart, but not fully cooking them could have made me sick. After thinking about this for a second, the cook on food network pulled something out of the oven and said, "Mmm, baked to perfection." I realized this was a message the Lord had been trying to send me. As much as I want her here, Sadie needs to be baked to perfection. The more I've thought about this, the more parallels I've been able to draw. For instance, my kitchen oven is so old it needs to be turned up an extra 25 degrees and after that I usually have to leave food in there a few more minutes than the recipe recommends. Maybe my personal "oven" is the same way. All I know, is I'm trying to be better about being patient. When Sadie finally does come, I want to be able to say she's been baked to perfection. Wish me luck.
