I went to the doctor today for my 37 week check up. Thinking that I have been having a lot of braxton hicks contractions lately, I was hoping she would say I was 1 cm dilated for all the uncomfortable pain I've gone through... In actuality, she said I was 3-4 cm already. I wish someone could have had a camera to record the lo0k of shock on my face. I think I turned to see Kevin grinning from ear to ear. The doctor predicted that I have Clare on Thanksgiving, and that if I still hadn't started active labor by next Monday, she would be shocked. She said that once my body gets to 4 cm, the contractions will be a whole lot more painful and that I will know when to come into the hospital, but for now it's just a waiting game.
Right now I'm full of a thousand emotions... excited, nervous, happy, and mostly scared. Giving birth is no easy task and it will definitely be an event I remember for the rest of my life. Physically the house is ready for her to come, but I'm not sure how ready my mind is for her to be here. I was still thinking we had 3 weeks to go! I hope Kevin and I are ready for little Clare, and I hope she is ready for us. Our lives are about to change forever.
All prayers are gladly accepted and needed!
November 24, 2008
November 18, 2008
Man Slave
As I was writing out my mundane grocery list last week, I was taken back to my college years. I loved to find my friends grocery lists and add a bit of my own flare. I would always either add (a) Cookie for Mary or (b) Man-Slave. Even with all my years of persistent asking, they never brought me back either one. But boy, would a man slave had come in handy.
Now don't get your minds in the gutter. A man slave is not to be used for any "inappropriate" uses. The phrase actually started in high school. I had an 8:00 class on the 3rd floor of our building. Ah, the torture. Keep in mind my inability to function before 10 am and my lack of physical fitness. All I wanted was a man slave, hired for the purpose of carrying me and my book bag up those long, twisty staircases every morning. My morning would have been exponentially brighter had my precious energy not been wasted on hauling my own body weight and bag up those stairs.
I would have loved to have the man slave in college too. Think of the struggle of lugging groceries up to a second story apartment, having 3-4 bags hanging from each arm. For a man slave, I'm sure it would have been no problem, but for me a weekly nightmare. Or what about when I missed the bus to campus and had to trek across the cold, windswept parking lots to my class. If my friends had been nice enough to have gotten me a man slave, he would have given me a piggy back ride all the way to my class desk.
Now a days, I no longer have a need for a man slave. Either life has gotten easier, or I have accepted to do things (like walking) on my own. But if any of you happen to run across a man slave with working mammary ducts, I bet I could use him in a couple of weeks! (or you could just get me that cookie I asked for on the grocery list, thanks...)
Now don't get your minds in the gutter. A man slave is not to be used for any "inappropriate" uses. The phrase actually started in high school. I had an 8:00 class on the 3rd floor of our building. Ah, the torture. Keep in mind my inability to function before 10 am and my lack of physical fitness. All I wanted was a man slave, hired for the purpose of carrying me and my book bag up those long, twisty staircases every morning. My morning would have been exponentially brighter had my precious energy not been wasted on hauling my own body weight and bag up those stairs.
I would have loved to have the man slave in college too. Think of the struggle of lugging groceries up to a second story apartment, having 3-4 bags hanging from each arm. For a man slave, I'm sure it would have been no problem, but for me a weekly nightmare. Or what about when I missed the bus to campus and had to trek across the cold, windswept parking lots to my class. If my friends had been nice enough to have gotten me a man slave, he would have given me a piggy back ride all the way to my class desk.
Now a days, I no longer have a need for a man slave. Either life has gotten easier, or I have accepted to do things (like walking) on my own. But if any of you happen to run across a man slave with working mammary ducts, I bet I could use him in a couple of weeks! (or you could just get me that cookie I asked for on the grocery list, thanks...)
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