Is due 2 months from today! I am so excited to be only 2 months out. I talked to my sister yesterday (and by "talk" I mean "interrogated") about her labor and delivery in January 2008. Ever committed to business hours, her water broke at 9:00 a.m. and the baby was out and about by close of business (6:00 p.m.). On a Monday. She's always been the more efficient of the two of us! I told her my plan was to labor as far as I could and then get the epidural, which is exactly what she did. She said she didn't want to medicate before she had a good understanding of what exactly she was medicating. She made it pretty clear that once she found out, she was all for the epidural. This may sound crazy, but I am really hoping that my water breaks naturally. (In many situations, women's water has to be broken through a medical procedure.) I hope it breaks somehwere in my house so I can regularly see "THE SPOT" where labor with Pepps began. I just hope I recognize that my water has actually broken and not confuse it as some slightly more acute form of incontinence.
All in all, my sister's labor for her first child, her son Patrick, sounded very routine and healthy. Here's hoping that genetics play a large role in birthing experiences.
We are supposed to go to a wedding next weekend in Florida, and you know what, I am just not feeling it for the Sunshine State. Every experience is so heightened with emotions right now that I just can't say I am up for crossing the state line in an airplane again before July 14. You should have seen me during the turbulence on our flights to and from New York. Good Lord, I was writhing in emotional pain and begging Jeff never to make me get on an airplane again. You would have thought I was on the Spaceship Challenger and for the very life of me, I just could not calm down. The minute an airplane shakes I have always panicked, but now, it's almost like I have a psychotic break. I haven't come this far in my life to fall out of the sky with my baby and my husband. And, in those moments when the flight attendants are told to "take their jump seats" and everything is bumping all over the cabin, I honestly can only picture plummeting to my death. All the logic or aviation know-how or understanding of quantum physics cannot convince the panicked part of me that I will make it out alive. And, while I would love to strut my ample stuff all through the Ritz in Palm Beach-- and be there for one of Jeff's dear friend's weddings-- I just don't know if I can do it. I have told Jeff that he is certainly free to go without me, and I really, truly mean that. The entire trip is about 35 hours, and if it only didn't involve jet travel, I would be there in a heartbeat. I am pretty sure the the rules of polite society forbid me from asking the bride and groom to move their wedding to the Ritz in Chicago to accommodate my pregnancy panic attacks.
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