Sure, that hashtag is longer than most tweets. It’s the most fitting title I could come up with. You’ll be forewarned that I will at least mention sex in this post, and maybe something else graphic. We’ll see where I end up, as I write these blogs from the top of my head with only a main point. Where that point takes me? I guess we’ll all find out after.

Today I found myself again in the doctor’s office. I went in with hopes of change, with hopes that maybe just maybe I would get sent to the hospital to finally end this pregnancy. Of course, that didn’t happen. No change. I sat there in the room with the midwife, a new midwife to my doctor’s office, and a student looking at me with looks of consolation. I don’t want consolation, I want to end the madness. My due date isn’t until tomorrow, and I half wonder if I’m just that lucky to have children on their exact due date. I wouldn’t say lucky though, because tomorrow is a whole day of cramping and being too sore to function.

As I was leaving, I was called into her office like a student passing by in the halls who just happened to do something wrong in front of the office. She told me to schedule a fetal stress test for next week before my next scheduled appointment. Then if I’m unfortunate enough to still be pregnant by then, I get to sit for an hour twiddling my thumbs while I’m monitored to make sure everything’s ok and discuss being induced. I might turn to religion if it’ll get this child out of me before it gets cut out of me forcibly. It’s one thing to go into the hospital and “oops, guess you need a c-section” so you don’t have time to psych yourself out. It’s a completely different story when you have to schedule it and over think your insides being cut up and pushed aside while you’re awake and watching the shadows while they do the surgery. I’ll buy this kid whatever he wants if he comes out now.

Before I finally left for good, in a completely crappy mood. No, crappy doesn’t cover it. I would actually use “shitty” to describe my mood at the moment, I had a bright moment when the midwife loudly said “until then, have lots of sex”. I looked up with a raised eyebrow and completely embarrassed. I can’t say that the first thing on my mind at that moment was what got me into this situation to begin with. Much to my horror she continued on, and it may have been my imagination but she said it louder this time. “Seriously, it would really help your situation. Enjoy yourself! Well, you don’t have to enjoy yourself, just as long as he does.” Yeah, that really happened.

In the end, I think I’ve officially hit a wall of frustration and being emotional. I can’t even begin to describe everything on my mind at this moment, and I definitely have no words for how I’m feeling. I definitely think I’m just going to spend the day wallowing in my bed maybe to catch up on all the sleep I’ve been missing due to my lack of comfort. I probably won’t though; wallowing isn’t my style. Commence jumping jacks, spicy food, and castor oil?

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