Are to make you so miserable that to go into labor (as painful as it must be) is a welcomed relief. At this point, I think papa Rob has hidden all of the sharp instruments because I am one more sleepless night away from performing my own c-section. I've watched enough medical shows, how hard could it be really?
Last night, I actually woke up in the middle of the night and climbed into Wallace's dog bed with him. I guess in my Ambien haze, I thought a $100 dog bed on the floor would be more comfortable than our $1,000 pillow-top mattress. Needless to say, W was not pleased about sharing his bed (as big as it is) and the fact that my hip feels like someone drove an icepick into it tells me it sure as hell isn't as comfortable as our bed.
Something that gives me hope though, I had a coworker tell me this morning that she could tell that I'm going to go into labor this weekend. I'm not sure if she meant it or if it was wishful thinking because she feels bad that I was waddling AND hobbling (which is a sexy combination) around the office covered in dog hair. Either way, it sure would be nice, and I think I would kiss her feet if she ended up being right.
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