Can you be addicted to Tums?

I was throwing out yet another empty bottle of Tums this morning, and I looked in the (overflowing) trashcan. I noticed that it was the THIRD bottle in the trash. So either I haven't taken the trash in our bedroom out in a really long time, or I have a problem.

Change for Cash

So, I'm not sure if this is because I am a) crazy b) extremely pregnant or c)totally justified, but I have been changing my mind A LOT lately.

The first thing was about the baby's name. For some reason, I thought about the name Archer, and I fell in love with it. Archer Mann. Holy shit, that's a cool name! I asked Josh, and he agreed it was a pretty friggin cool name. Aw crap! I've been calling this kid Cash, and now I might change my mind with a week to go???

Then I changed my mind about when I want to have him. (*sounds of God laughing that I think I have any say in the matter*) A week ago, I was ready to have him. Get him out, anyway possible. I was taking black cohosh, bouncing on a birth ball, begging Josh for sex, whatever it would take to evict the 7 pound parasite that was making it next to impossible for me to climb a flight of stairs without wheezing like an asthmatic. Now I want him to stay in until March! I don't want a February baby! And I keep postponing it, like March 1st would be ok, but the 3rd would be even better, or the 4th, and the 5th is ideal. I'm actually hoping to go over my due date. WTH is wrong with me?

I have been waivering on all of my decisions. Should I really use cloth diapers? Am I sure I don't want an epidural? Do I cut my hair or grow it out? Should I watch HGTV or Food Network?

Maybe I am just getting overwhelmed at the thought of having another child. I am sure this is totally normal and most pregnant women experience it to some extent. But we have to remember that I am, admittedly, crazy. My mind is always racing right now. Everytime I go to the bathroom, I wait for my water to break. And I have mixed emotions when it doesn't "Whew! Thank God it didn't break!" and "Dammit! When is it going to break???"

Disengaged

Had my 38 week check up today, and the baby is "not engaged". He apparently is not interested in what is going on out here in the real world, or he is not committed. Either way, it means I'm probably going to be fat, miserable and bitchy for at least 2 more weeks.

Oh shit...

Last night I started having some more painful contractions. They were irregular, but more painful than Braxton Hicks contractions. I blame myself, since I have been doing pelvic exercises on a birth ball and chasing evening primrose oil with red raspberry tea, laced with black cohosh. Josh was his usual disinterested self at first, but as I started making more, "Ow ow ow ow" sounds, he became slightly concerned and asked if we needed to go to the hospital.

I think that was the exact moment that it finally sank it that I was GOING TO HAVE A BABY. Not someday, not eventually, not some far off intangible time, but REALLY FUCKING SOON!!! I was going to have to go to the hospital, go through hours of unbearable pain, shove a bloody screaming mess of a human out of my vagina, and then take it home and turn it into a responsible member of society.

OH. SHIT.

I'm not ready for this. I mean, yes the nursery is all complete and waiting for a tiny child to make it usable, the car seat is installed, all of the bottles are washed and put away, and everything at work is ready for me to go on maternity leave. But I am not ready. I just got my shit together! Now it's going to be all...untogether, for a good 3 years!!! WTF HAVE I DONE?!?

So ya know what I did? I didn't color my hair. I was going to color my hair last night as the final preparation for birth. It's all I really have left to do, and I figured the little shit was waiting on that to make his grand entrance. So I didn;t do it. As long as I don't color my hair, he can't come out, right?

This makes sense in my pregnant brain.

This baby is going to be born in prison...

...because I am close to killing someone.

It may be one of the dozens of people who approach me daily and ask the same 5 questions about my baby. Cause of death: In Wal-Mart, with a shopping cart.

It may be my husband, who does not seem to understand that I am a) hormonal and b) exhausted. I am not interested in having an argument over whether or not to have stuffing for dinner. In the study, beaten to death with the XBox he plays incessantly.

Could be my employees, who's brains seem to have fallen right out of their heads and they have forgotten how to do EVERYTHING. So of course, I have to do it, along with all of my crap, while I am a miserable 9 months pregnant. In my office, with a stapler.

Could be my OB, for telling me that I am 36 weeks, not dilated, not effaced, baby's head is high, and he is still posterior. Technically, not the OB's fault, but someone has to pay the price.

No one is safe...

*DISCLAIMER* This is a joke. I am just extremely irritable, and the next 4 weeks are going to be LOOOOONG!