I went to my third weekly appointment this morning and the status?? Zero progress since last week. I'll be honest...I cried for a solid hour. I know I'm less than two weeks away from my actual due date, but he hasn't even dropped. The way the doctor made it sound was that he isn't coming anytime soon. I'm just at a whole new level of frustration right now. I'm sick of talking about it, I'm sick of sleeping on my side with 8 pillows around me, I'm sick of getting tired after walking 10 feet, I'm sick of gaining weight, I could go on and on.
After saying all that, I need to back-track and talk about a conversation I had with an advertiser last week. I have been complaining a lot lately. I put a call into a company on Friday and she knew I was pregnant and due pretty soon. She's been so sweet and sounded really excited for me. She asked me how I was doing and I told her I was so sick of being pregnant. Well, come to find out, she and her husband are traveling to Honduras this week as part of an adoption process. They have been married 18 years and have never been able to conceive. I felt terrible. Here I am whining and complaing and God really did smack me across the face and told me to get over myself. It's amazing how you get caught up in your own problems only to later realize, your problems are really small in comparison to others. I'm growing a friggin miracle right now and I should remind myself of that every single day. Today I had a minor set-back in that train of thought :)
I'm still rockin' 1 cm, but I'm going to try and stay positive. He just isn't ready yet. He's stubborn like his father. Tonight, Michael is going to pick up some spicy food and we're going on a very long walk with Sam. For my mental health, I've got to start doing something to get the process going. Plus, let's be honest, 50 lbs isn't going to fall off on its own.
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