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You guys. I am still pregnant. As a matter of fact, tomorrow I will be 36 weeks pregnant (and tomorrow starts in like 3 hours so I’m pretty sure I’ll make it). Luckily, I am not still in the hospital. The oh-so-baffled perinatologists (I can’t believe you’re still pregnant!) finally sent me home because I was far enough along (at almost 34 weeks) that I really wasn’t considered high risk anymore. I guess. I’m not sure what the hell logic they employed in any part of this situation and am still totally perplexed that I spent TWO EFFING MONTHS in the hospital. Two months! The hell? I’m trying to assume that it was actually necessary and not be completely angry about it. Anyway – they sent me home with my Procardia and Progesterone until 36 weeks (did I mention that’s tomorrow?) and told me I should remain on bed rest and make an appointment with the OB for that same week. So I did. I probably should mention that I don’t usually see this OB, he is just the dude who bosses my midwife around. Okay, not really. Since she is just a nurse, she couldn’t technically be in charge of me and/or deliver my baby when I was all high risk and having a premature baby and stuff. She works under him so I had to be transferred to his care when the drama unfolded in January. Luckily, he’s awesome. At my appointment with him he smiled over the fact  that I was still pregnant (against ALL odds, apparently) and told me that if I went past my due date he was going to laugh.  He said if I wanted to I could transfer back to my midwife. So I did. He also said screw the bed rest (thank GOD) because, in his words, “at this point, why?”. And here I still am, two weeks later, pregnant as ever (ginormously, ridiculously pregnant with totally edematous feet and hands, and an aching pelvis). 

And now I’m starting to get all nervous and excited about the arrival of Little Dude Carter. The entire time I was in the hospital I had nothing to do but panic and not enjoy anything at all about this pregnancy because of all the he-could-be-born-ANY-MINUTE drama. I know, who enjoys pregnancy, right? But I kind of do. It’s totally amazing to be growing a human in your belly and to be able to feel that human wiggling around and poking/kicking/punching/karate chopping your insides. And this is the last time I’m ever going to do it (I know, famous last words, but seriously – if there was ever any part of me that thought three kids would be cool (and there was) this whole two-months-in-the-hospital thing murdered THAT impulse) so now I’m trying to enjoy it. And I’m also getting totally nervous about having two kids because TWO KIDS, YOU GUYS. Two kids means that when my husband is at work I will be outnumbered by the children. I have a toddler whose favorite activities include climbing on dangerous things, finding and shredding all of the toilet paper in the house, running quickly to avoid Mama and terrorizing the cats. This week she figured out to open the front door and was halfway down the sidewalk before I caught up with her. How the hell am I supposed to keep up with and/or prevent all of those things while nursing and holding a helpless little being that can’t do anything? So there’s that. But at the same time I am super excited to meet the guy. And to be able to walk properly again. And for all the excess fluid to get the hell out of my appendages.

And I’m sure I’ll get used to the whole two kids thing and be totally fine. Right?

Anyway- my prediction is that he will be here later this week so I’ll keep y’all posted.