In a fit of desperation, I took a whole lot of Evening Primrose oil and had some mercy lovin' from my hubby and this morning, I'm back to the occasional contraction, but certainly not with the regularity that they were hitting yesterday.

Of course, this little span of practice labor has everyone totally excited out of their minds that I'm going to have this baby. I was in the store last night and told a woman I knew from my aqua aerobics class that I was in labor (because she so thoughtfully asked,"Wendy, haven't you had that baby yet?") and the checkout kid looked like he was afraid my water would break right there at his checkout stand. Men have such weird ideas about labor...damned TV.

I called my mom yesterday and told her I'd been having contractions all day and she told me I couldn't have the baby until May 5. Apparently that's her selected due date for this kid. I told her I'd keep my legs crossed and then giggled and said,"Well, if I'd kept my legs crossed to begin with, I wouldn't be in this mess." She laughed and said,"You're right!" She had BETTER be wrong about May 5 though or I'm going to lose my freakin' mind. Michael thinks I'm having her today. I'm trying not to have any predictions. I'm trying to just give her space to show up when she wants -- geesh, doesn't that sound existentialist. But it's how I feel. Everyone says I'm so patient about it. I am and I'm not.

Mostly, I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high, so I don't exhaust myself waiting, which is a lot of what happened with Russell. I know I need to sleep while I can, and I've been trying to do that. Today I have a lot of energy. It's hard when I have a lot of energy or want to get a lot done, not to take it as a sign of something with regards to my labor. What's worse is that everyone else takes it that way, too! It makes it hard to be the patient one in the face of all this expectation.

I'm just going to try to work on my thank you notes with Mike. He's so sure it's today, he's staying home from work and telecommuting.

I feel this desire to retire to my cave as well as nest blindly, which of course, could mean that I'm having the baby. Ha! I am bummed I missed the stripping of the altar at Maundy Thursday services last night, but I'm thinking I'll go up and listen to the Good Friday commentary things they do in the afternoons. I know Canon Marcia is doing one on women and the Resurrection. In that context, I figure God forgives your water breaking, and it would be good for me to get out and think about something else.

Okay, so my plans changed as Ms. Genevieve is busy today. I am not contracting exactly, but about every 7-9 minutes I feel like barfing my guts out, so I figure that's prolly a contraction. I've had a couple of the dry gacks...where I started to threaten to barf, but kept it down. If I start barfing, I'm sunk because they'll hook me up to shit and I won't be able to get out of the goddamned bed.

Well, I saw my OB to get a amniotic fluid check and he prodded me for not getting my blood sugars in for the past few weeks. And somewhere in there I fell apart. I told him how I was upset about not being totally cool with plans for Russell and that I was upset that Mike's mom flaked on us at the last gasp. I told him how Pauline has been driving me crazy with "she's going to be there" at the hospital, even though we've repeatedly had conversations where I've said, I just needed her to be available for whatever I wanted and she's agreed. (Can you say ADD? I knew you could.) I mean, yesterday during the day we'd talked and she said she understood that I didn't know if I wanted anyone there and then she called me last night and told me I was to call if we went because she'd go with us. I'd rather have a volunteer doulah than this shit any day.

I about fell apart last night, but my doctor basically called me out on it today and said, that Mike should tell her to bugger off, if necessary. So I fell apart in front of the doctor. And the bazillion phone calls a day about how I'm doing is really starting to totally piss me off, so Mike disconnected the ringers on the phones and he will check messages periodically and tell me if it's anything I've got to deal with. We've even discussed moving the TV into the bedroom, so I can just stay in here, and rest. He can tell people I'm not available per the doctor's orders(sleeping, showering, etc.) and that I'm fine. The doctor said it was fine for Mike to tell them that I was laying low per the doctor's orders and that I wasn't to have visitors for a little while.

Afterwards, Mike and I discussed it and he'll simply tell them at the check-in desk at the hospital that no one is to come in to see us while we are in labor and we will name Pauline specifically, as someone who is not permitted to disturb us. The first person I want to see after I deliver, is Russell. I actually don't care about much of anyone else. I care about seeing Russell. My personal feeling is that I'd probably like to see other people, but I'd like us to have some family bonding time together without a whole shitload of chaos.

I'm just sick of feeling like I've got to set my boundaries over and over again and have them ignored over and over again. I know people are excited, but it's really pissing me off. I feel like I'm supposed to birth on command. I mean if it was farting or belching, I could probably do that, but this birth on command thing is a little out of my league. I will be birthing a baby on the whim of the baby and no one else.