Overdue

Apparently due dates mean nothing to my children because October 20th has come and gone and here I am, still fricking pregnant. I wouldn't mind the waiting so much if my comfort level was a bit higher. I have been experiencing "early labor" crap since Wednesday. Larry and I were ready to head to the hospital Wednesday night after a few hours of consistent 6-7 min apart contractions. Not breath-taking painful, but not comfortable. Then they stopped. We were SOOO certain that Oliver was on his way that Larry stayed home on Thursday. Nope, still no baby. Same on Friday. Saturday came and went and our official due date was pretty uneventful. Yesterday (Sunday), I would have put money on the fact that Oliver was going to arrive. I woke up in the morning and the "bloody show" was in full effect. Contractions started about 9:30 in the morning about 10 minutes apart and continued until 12ish about 6-7 minutes apart. We were ready to go but I told Larry I felt like I should wait until I was in a bit more pain. I was uncomfortable but not dying by any means. I put Emma down for her nap, certain that we were going to be leaving shortly for the hospital. By 3 pm, contractions were continuing at the same interval but not with increasing intensity so I told Larry I wanted to try to wait it out and stay at home until after Emma went to bed. "Babe, that's 5 hours away, no way." I just didn't feel ready to go yet. Again, more emotional to leave my baby girl than to actually deliver a baby. Contractions waxed and waned for the next several hours. I had zero appetite and anything that I did eat gave me almost immediate bubble guts and exited the premises. I couldn't eat dinner. I had been spotting on and off all day. Contractions were not letting up. I asked Larry to go on a walk with me after dinner (I passed on the pizza) and I had to stop 3 times around the block with contractions 5 minutes apart. "I don't think you're going to make it until Emma goes to bed, hon." I was determined to tough out the last hour before her bedtime. I laid down with her in her room and contractions seemed to subside. Right before I put her to bed, Emma said, "Mom, I want to talk to Oliver." She lifted my shirt and said, "Oliver, this is Emma speaking (yeah, she's only 3!). I want you to come out now because it's taking too long and mommy is going to take care of you." I almost wanted to cry. Well, he didn't listen. She fell asleep. Larry asked if I was ready to go and I, again, insisted on waiting. I waited an hour for contractions to pick up. Well, they didn't. I went to lay down in our room because quite frankly, I knew in my heart this was not happening tonight. AND, it didn't. I maybe had four contractions the whole night. When I woke up pregnant this morning, I thought it was just a bad joke. I cried. I know, so selfish, right? I should be grateful to even be able to go through this experience. Buuuuut, I am DONE. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I'm uncomfortable. I am sick of being toyed with. I am ready to hold this baby. I am frustrated. Come out Oliver! I don't need you to compete with your sister for who can come out the furthest past their due date!