No, the boys haven’t made any progress yet towards being born. But TOO BAD for them, because the caesarian birth is scheduled for 10:30 a.m. tomorrow.
H and I had our pre-operative appointment at the hospital today. We got all checked in, and were given three THOUSAND critical bits of information, none of which I remember right now, except don’t eat or drink after midnight (Gremlin?) and be at the hospital at 8:30 a.m. The rest is all to do with post-surgery stuff, where guests can wait, taking pictures, who goes where at what point and I assume that if I have questions, someone will be available to answer them, probably. And if not, none of that stuff is mission-critical anyway.
If possible, I feel even worse today than I did yesterday. I can’t seem to sleep for more than an hour at a time, and this sinus crap is *really* annoying. I’ve been cleared to take Su.dafed, if I want to, but it wires me up (um, because it’s SPEED), so I obviously don’t want to take it at bed time, which is when I most need it. And of course, Benadry.l has begun to have little to no effect on me. I slept fitfully from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. last night, waking up every hour, and then remained awake from 2-4 a.m., when I finally crashed (again, fitfully) until 8:00 a.m. I just feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, which isn’t exactly the feeling I want to have the day before I go in for major surgery/parent-becoming, etc.
Which, speaking of…
HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I’m going to be someone’s mom. I’M GOING TO BE SOMEONE’S MOM.
I mean, I knew this was the eventual (and much desired) outcome, but OH MY GOD. I’m freaking out a little bit over this. Everything, every-single-tiny-thing, is going to change. Good, bad, gorgeous or ugly, EVERYTHING is going to be different after tomorrow.
I guess it’s too late to change my mind, huh?
I kid, of course, but yeah. I’m being hit by a big dose of the freakout right now. Monumental occasion happening tomorrow. I feel like I should be over the moon happy (I am), but at the same time, there’s so much else to feel that I’m having a really hard time sorting it out. This would be the one disadvantage of a scheduled birth. If things were left to progress naturally, I’d be taken by surprise (at least a little), and I wouldn’t have all this ramp-up time to think, “Ah, this is my last breakfast. My last lunch, my last moments of individuality,” etc. Why must I imbue every moment with wistful remembrances of totally unimportant moments? Not necessary.
But, this is how things have turned out. And this is what I have been waiting so long for. And a surgery that I have been wishing to happen for weeks now. I am very much ready, SO ready to become a mother, so ready to start the recovery, but all the same, feeling quite nervous about the whole thing.
EVERYTHING is going to change.
In what can only be chalked up to incredible coincidence, synchronicity at it’s most beautiful, tomorrow marks seven years since the party where H and I found each other. Seven years since the party where this happened… I had completely forgotten, and frankly, H and I had always hotly contested the actual date of the occurrence (he going earlier in June, me claiming later), but the party’s hostess commented on Facebook today with a “Happy (Trouble Boots) Anniversary”, and I realized that, aha! I had informed the hostess back then that I would, indeed, be strapping on my knee-high, steep-heeled “trouble boots” and starting some tartish trouble with someone at her party that year. And indeed I did. Little did I know that seven years later, he and I would be starting some decidedly serious “double trouble” of our own…
Yeah. So, tomorrow. I am bringing my laptop to the hospital, and if I’m up for it, I’ll post (or have H post) something letting everyone know that they’ve arrived… Sigh. What a different world this will be in only a matter of hours…