Testing

I am seriously grumpy. This four days late crap is getting me down, not to mention making me immobile. I can't move without pain, can't even lift a finger without discomfort because of the carpal tunnel. I can't drive because I can't reach the steering wheel any more. No kidding. Yes, my belly has grown out so much I CAN NOT REACH THE STEERING WHEEL. This is getting ridiculous.

So here I sit, stewing in my own hatred, nearly wetting my pants every twenty minutes, waiting, waiting, waiting. The cramps are few and far in between, and the Braxton Hicks are nearly indistinguishable from terrible gas, WHICH I HAVE IN SPADES. Hub used to think it was cute...he now leaves the room in a hurry.

I have watched more crappy television that should be allowable by law. If I see one more stupid cat food commercial I may do something horrible. The next person who calls me to ask "Have you had the baby?" or to say "Get your sleep now because you're never going to sleep again! HAR HAR HAR..." is going to be punched in the neck.

Also, what is up with TV!? Every show I see seems to be about pregnant women being kidnapped for their unborn child. Bones? Pregnant woman kidnapped. Law and Order? Pregnant woman kidnapped. MTV? Pregnant woman kidnapped. Animal planet? Pregnant bonobo kidnapped. The moral to this story? Don't answer Craigslist ads offering free baby crap. You will be kidnapped for your unborn child.

I am now getting texts, emails and voicemails every hour on the hour. They range from people I know well to family to people I have not seen for years. All of them leave the same pressurized message..."Is he here yet?" NO HE IS NOT HERE YET.

You will know when he is coming, though. I anticipate screaming bloody murder throughout labor, and you will most likely hear me from my hospital bed.

3 Days Past Due Date

Hey Baby,

I'm waiting. What's going on? You're obviously enjoying yourself inside my uterus, but now you're so big you're kicking my ribs. It's making me drop my food as I try to pass it to my mouth, which is unacceptable.

Here's the deal. You should come out tomorrow. Either that or consider yourself grounded before they even cut the cord.

Love,

Mommy

No Rest

So awake. I can't close my eyes without thinking of how anxious I am, how much is coming soon, how much I can't control it. It's suffocating me in a way I find all too familiar. I can't remember the last time I felt this cornered, but I remember the feeling well. It was usually taken care of with lots of tranquilizers. Unfortunately that won't be the solution this time.

I'm sitting on the couch at 4 in the morning, awake since 3, watching television and wanting to eat. Nothing is satisfying, and labor is looming over my head like a rain cloud. It is a lot like waiting for the storm to arrive.

I stopped by work and talked to the person replacing me while I'm gone. I felt unsettled after doing so, feeling like if I left, everything I found comfortable in my career would suddenly disappear. I felt an overwhelming feeling of dread, watching this young girl remove all of my familiar things and replace them with her own.

The pain in my pelvis has come and gone over and over again, and now it's back, hanging out and communicating to me that something much worse is on the horizon. It's speaking to me and saying, "THINK THIS IS BAD?! HA HA HAAA..."

And the concerns, worries, anxieties, doubts...they're all here. Is the baby going to have Down Syndrome? Is the baby going to be sick? Is the baby going to take days to come out? Will I be suffering through the longest labor on record? Will my nurse be kind and gentle? Will my husband be awesome or awkward?

It's all spinning in my head at 4 in the morning. But by the time the sun rises again, I'll be back to normal, thinking about what we need for the baby's room, wondering what he's going to look like, excited about everything again. These sleepless nights are draining the sanity right out of me.

DUE

Ok. Now what? Hello in there? Waiting patiently. Nothing. Nada, zip. The doc checked up there and said there was nothing going on, so what's the deal?

I've obviously made it far too comfortable for you in there, little boy. Now it's time to bring out the big guns. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Indian food for dinner.

Nothing?

It's been a week or so since my last appointment. Went for my first pelvic today, which was AWESOME, and by awesome I mean REALLY NOT GOOD.

I've never had a person stuff a hand that far into my nether region before. It was quite the experience, and not in a good way. But the reason she had to push so high up was that the cervix was not anywhere near the area it should be for labor. That means, I'm not effaced, not dilated, and NOT HAVING THIS BABY TODAY. ARRRGH.

Now, technically, I'm not due for a few days still. I should be patient and wait for the lil' dude. But seeing that it's getting more and more difficult to move up off the couch to reach sustenance, I was kind of hoping for a little progress at this point.

Another appointment is planned for next week, along with a sonogram to make sure there's enough amniotic fluid in there for the baby. At that point, I will officially be late by about a week, although the doc says I could be as late as 2 weeks without inducing. Blarg. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little just typing that.

In other news, I lost a pound. Whaaa...? I eat ice cream sundaes every day for a week and I lose a pound?!

Obviously, the universe has turned inside out.

Week 39

Feeling Excited...and GROSS.

Ugh. Have you ever felt like you just can't get clean enough? That's how I feel every day when I wake up. Stinky. (Yes, pregnancy occasionally makes you smell funny.) Unable to resolve the tremendous gastrointestinal issue. Having to change my underwear every few hours because of "pregnancy leaks." Too much information? DON'T I KNOW IT.

At one point I just realized that it was just grossing me out. On top of gaining weight all over my face and suddenly realizing this third chin may not want to go away any time soon, I feel exhausted by the extra poundage. It's a lot to carry around and it's getting to me.

I realize I'm pregnant and waiting for a beautiful baby to come. It's not that I'm delusional and thinking I will magically Heidi Klum my way into a bikini a month after giving birth. I just feel kind of disgusted with myself at various times of the day. I hate seeing myself in the mirror some days. Pictures are a no-no. Everything that reflects is banned from my view for now.

Now, these days of disgust are not the norm, but they hit like a mac truck and they're not fun for the ego. Not to mention showering is now a real chore. I can't take one without almost killing myself by slipping on the water.

How low have I sunk? I need supervision to take a shower.

NO DOI.

I can't come close to expressing how SICK I am of people who tell me the following...and please keep in mind that I'm running on empty here. I literally get 3 hours of sleep a night, if I'm lucky.

1) Get yer sleep now, while you can! HAR HAR HAR!

YES I KNOW. How many times do you think I've heard this one? A dozen? A hundred? It's getting to the point where I'm literally walking away mid-sentence whenever I hear it. It's EVERY DAY. And it seems like the teller of such a nugget of wisdom thinks it's hilarious to tell me this, like it's my payback for some unknown bad karma I acquired in a past life.

2) You will NEVER see a movie in a theater again! See all the movies you can now!

YES I KNOW. You can't bring a baby into a theater, I KNOW THIS. In fact, I am one of those people who roll their eyes when they see a parent with a kid walk into Wolverine or Transformers. It's really not something I expect to do with my own kid, which is why I have Netflix.

3) You should eat out now while you can. You will never have a dinner alone with your husband again.

YES I KNOW. A baby makes it hard to eat at a romantic restaurant. It's not hard to understand that. I'm not delusional and I'm not crazy.

4) Your life will never be the same. Have fun now while you can.

NICE. Thanks for the notice. Like having a baby will suck the fun out of my life forever. GREAT TIDBIT. I feel sorry for your children, being the succubus spawn they are in your life. Sheesh.

5) You'll be changing diapers and they'll be stinky and gross.

Not even going to respond to this inane comment except to say DUH.

Now don't get me wrong...I don't mind advice, when it's good advice, full of love, generosity, and good intentions. However, the above do not count as any of that. It's really getting to the point where I'm sick of talking to people who have nothing good to say about having a baby.

I spoke with a friend the other day. She has two kids. I mentioned my gripes about people giving their "advice" and she said, "Oh I totally remember that. I always thought those people were kind of mean."

Mean and obviously looking for members to join their MISERABLE PARENT'S CLUB. I, for one, do not plan on being one of those members, thank you. It took some trials and tribulations to get to this point...I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Yes, I know what that saying means. And yes, I'm older than rocks.

Week 38

Sleep? What's That?

The contractions are off and on, and range from mild to "HOLY HELL WHAT IS DYING INSIDE ME!?"

But the real problem is the lack of sleep. I've been dozing off at 3:00 a.m. and waking up at 6:00 a.m. only to eat a quick breakfast with my husband before he goes off to work. Then, I fall back asleep watching television at 8:00 a.m. or so and then wake up at 11:00 a.m. It's about 6 hours of sleep altogether...but not a solid, deep sleep. It's hard to get some rest when Angel is on (6-8 a.m., channel 37...fyi.)

I have no idea what is keeping me up at night. It may be the anxiety of the labor and birth, as I have never been one to give up control in my life, if at all possible. However, I don't dwell on it constantly, nor do I obsess about the pain that's coming. I just know it's there, and it weighs on my mind occasionally.

Or maybe it's the worry about the baby being ill or having down syndrome. I'm definitely terrified of either of those prospects, not because it would make this baby less loved, but because I wouldn't have the slightest clue what to do if that were the case. That is one surprise I don't want to experience.

Either way, I'm up. I'm really awake. And after noon on any given day, I'm exhausted. It's become a frustrating cycle.

On the other hand, baby seems to be enjoying the insomnia. He does a little jig every time I get out of bed and says, "HAY, I LOVE IT IN HERE!"

Eviction notice is looming, baby. Get packed.

Contractions

I had massive discomfort last night for the first time ever. It was continuous for a few hours, and the contractions lasted a minute or so, but then it stopped. I don't believe I'm in labor...no mucus plug, no bloody show, no water.

But the pain was considerable, and it felt as if my uterus was about to be squished like a tin foil ball by invisible hands. It was enough to make me cry out and lose my breath.

And I certainly don't want to hear that "Oh, labor will be SO much worse than that." I know that already. It's not reassuring to be reminded of it. And it certainly doesn't make me feel better.

Ugh. I have been awake for hours with only a handful of sleep. I need a nap. Zzzzzzzzz...

Unanswerable Questions

I worry about the fact that I'm older. I'm having what's technically known as a "geriatric pregnancy." Insulting? You betcha! But any woman over the age of 35 is doomed to have this scribbled over and over again in their doctor's notes. Underlined and highlighted, even.

So with this coming up in nearly every conversation I have about the baby, I was asked the other day by a relative, "Well, why didn't you start trying earlier?"

The tone wasn't merely inquisitive, it was accusatory. WHY on EARTH would you choose to wait? YOU, madam, are a MORON.

Instead of exploding into a violent rage, I actually stopped this time. I thought about it. Why did I wait? Why did I take the chance I did that I would be too old to have a baby? What made me think it would be ok to be nearing 40 and giving birth to my first born?

The thing of it is, there is no answer. I don't know why. I can only guess about my feelings year after year. In reality, I never really thought about it. Time just...passed.

I have excuses, sure. I was busy with my career, my life, school, marriage, relationship issues, doubts about money, women have babies in their fifties, I was ignorant about age and fertility. All of them are valid excuses, really.

But here's what really happened. Honest.

I never wanted to give birth to a child. I always wanted to adopt, ever since I was very young and saw a picture of a North Korean orphanage with children, stomachs bloated because they were starving. I wanted to take one home when I was ten. I still want to, every single time I think about it.

I never had that urge that most women start getting in their twenties and thirties. That clock just never started ticking for me. Maybe mine was silent, digital, batteries dead.

In my twenties, I wasn't even sure I was going to be a mother. The thought never even crossed my mind.

In my thirties, I knew I was going to adopt children, two, perhaps three. I never thought I wouldn't. It was a certainty.

And then, my forties crept up on me. My husband and I talked about it from time to time, with nothing done about it. We just talked and thought and talked and contemplated until finally, I was 37 and looking at an international adoptions website. There it was in bold lettering...MAXIMUM AGE OF PARENTS ALLOWED. We were nearly at the limit. I got nervous.

At the same time, my gynecologist appointment came up. She took a minute of our appointment to say, "Y'know, if you're thinking about having children, now is the time to do it."

At a silent auction one night, I saw a listing for an initial counseling session with a top adoption lawyer in our city. It was priced at $500, but no one had bid, so it had been marked down to $75. After the husband agreed it was a good deal, I bought it. We made an appointment a few weeks later. This is what we found out.

Adoption is incredibly expensive. It's not guaranteed. It's always a long process, and it's an emotionally painful experience full of uncertainty and ridiculous amounts of paperwork before it's the joyous, incredibly fulfilling journey you'd always dreamed of. All of it seemed doable. I was prepared for the difficulty of the adoption process.

But the money was what stopped me dead in my tracks. $30,000 to adopt in the U.S., even internationally would cost us close to that amount, plus travel expenses and time off to make multiple visits to the country. Either that or hire someone to do it for you, which cost just as much if not more. In addition, international adoptions are notoriously difficult due to the corruption of the governments that are placing strict rules and restrictions on adoption in their countries. In other words, you may pay out the nose with a terrible result...no baby and nothing you can do about it.

I made a very quick decision that week. I told my husband, "I know you've always wanted a biological child. If you really want one, now is the time to do it. It's literally now or never."

We started trying that week. And off on our journey we went. The husband was ecstatic, grateful, and beyond the clouds excited. I felt no doubt I had made the right decision.

But it was the most painful choice I've ever made in my life. Having this baby was, in a way, letting go of my adoption plans. I was making a choice my whole heart and mind had told me my whole life was the wrong road. I had to choose. Either way, adoption or pregnancy, my time was simply running out.

So I think my belated answer to the question "why" would be that I didn't wait. I chose to live my life. I chose to be who I am today through my experiences. I was happy with that choice until people told me I should have done things differently.

I believe I will be a mature parent, yes, but a grateful one. One that keeps in mind that fate brought a child to me. Fate brought me to the auction. I bought that adoption lawyer time because it was "on sale." If it hadn't been, I wouldn't have touched it. And if that lawyer hadn't been so thorough in explaining all the costs we simply couldn't afford, I probably would still be waiting to adopt right now, naively thinking it would happen eventually, not considering that time would catch up with me sooner than later.

My journey is mine. I take it with an open mind and heart. There is no map to follow. That is the adventure. Frustrating and beautifully engineered.

So, I'm NOT Having a 20 Pound Baby?

I only gained 9 ounces in two weeks...so sayeth my doctor. Woo! Now THAT'S more like it, people.

Everything looked right on track at the appointment. The doc measured the belly, felt around for the head and positioning, and had a little chat with the boy-to-be. All in all, a fairly uneventful appointment. Nothing to see here...move along, move along.

However, before she kicked us to the curb, I asked my pre-written post-it note questions and she answered them succinctly:

1) Do I have to sleep on my left side? Well, yes, but not completely rolled over, if that's uncomfortable. Just prop yourself up with a pillow. A slight angle is fine.

2) Do I have a weird cancerous lump in my breast? Hmm...probably not, but let's make a note of it and check to see if it has changed in two weeks. It's hard to discern with your breasts being 9 months pregnant.

3) Any recommendations on a pediatrician? Someone I need to bribe? Nope...they're all great. However, there were a few mentioned...no hints. I want him/her all to myself. And she/he has to be tolerant of major anxiety and/or speak the language of crazy fluently.

The Pre-Worry of Postpartum

I'm a worrier. I stress out. I've been trained to be overly concerned about every little thing. For this reason, I'm prone to depression and feelings of worthlessness. This is why I'm thinking about postpartum depression 3 weeks before my due date.

Now, I know more than most about the issues of depression because I've dealt with it for decades. But the only concrete thing I can put my finger on is that depression is so complicated, its facets so fractured and splintered, that it's impossible to predict or completely cure.

On many baby sites, I see the title "Baby Blues" characterized by the typical symptoms of mood swings, anxiety, sadness, irritability, crying, decreased concentration and trouble sleeping. This is considered the lesser form of postpartum depression, and caused by hormonal changes after birth.

Postpartum depression proper is characterized with more detail, appearing to be "Baby Blues" at first, but then lingering and turning uglier with a loss of appetite, insomnia, intense irritability or anger, lack of joy in life, feelings of shame, guilt or inadequacy, severe mood swings, difficulty bonding with the baby, withdrawal from family and friends and thoughts of harming yourself or baby.

Postpartum psychosis is the severest form of depression caused by childbirth. It typically develops within two weeks of delivery and include confusion and disorientation, hallucinations and delusions, paranoia, and attempts to harm yourself or the baby.

As I anxiously await the birth of this baby boy, I feel the pressure building and pressing down. I can literally feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. The baby is coming, no doubt about it. The labor and delivery will be hard and painful, as everyone has been repeating over and over again (which has not been helpful, btw.)

But the hardest sell has been the hope that everything will be ok AFTER the birth. Knowing myself, knowing my husband, I don't know if we can handle another bout of severe depression in this relationship. Add a demanding little baby into that mix and there may be more to attend to than my aching uterus after labor and delivery.

Week 36, Month 9

Here's what's going on...occasionally, baby puts his head on my bladder and uses it as a pillow. This gives me a sharp and distinctive need to pee every few minutes. Not pleasant when more than 10 feet away from a bathroom, and it makes going outside a little daunting.

The pelvic pain is anywhere between mild discomfort to severe head-pounding pain.

Bellybutton has NOT popped, although it threatens to every time I eat a big meal.

Stretch marks still suck.

The carpal tunnel has gone from worse to better to much, much worse. Basically, I'm living with tingling, aching fingers 24/7, and not in a good way. It makes driving a stick shift impossible at this point, so I am chauffeured around by hub when he has time, which is never. So what I'm saying is I'M TRAPPED IN MY HOUSE WATCHING THE TLC NETWORK. HELP...ME...

I'm tired, but not exhausted, basically because I can't sleep without waking every two minutes. Good practice, I'm told, for getting up in the middle of the night for feedings. I'm napping all throughout the day, but lightly. These are not naps of substance...no REM. Just light snoozes to keep me going.

I've also been trying to sleep on my left side, as most pregnancy guides recommend, but it's hard. I dislike the position, and always end up on my back (which is considered bad for the baby.) "Left side only" is the rule. Apparently, it is better for blood flow to the placenta. The body pillow I purchased is pretty awesome, even if it doesn't keep my oversized belly from tipping over in the middle of the night. It's not called "The Super Duper Miracle Pillow" after all. What can one expect? I weigh a metric ton.

I'm eating less, but we shall see what that means when I break the scale at next week's appointment.

I'm grumpy. Really grumpy. Being stuck in the house watching birthing stories on TV doesn't help. Trying to nest while you're waddling at a snail's pace around the house makes things frustrating. Trying to decipher every pain, nudge, tingle, ache and cramp is heart-stopping.

But, the good news...he's moving like a little speedster all over my uterus, so he has room in there. It's a constant movement that happens every time I sit still for two minutes. I don't understand why women (and dumb boys) told me I'd hate the sensation...because I LOVE it. It's amazing to feel this little boy pushing the walls of my belly. I think I will miss it when he's born, actually. There's no other feeling in the world like this. But we'll see how I feel at 40 weeks...maybe I'll be sending an eviction notice instead of rejoicing about the miracle of life then.

More good news...99% of all babies born at this point survive with no extra help. In fact, doc said that if he came now, she wouldn't stop him. After hearing her say that, my heart jumped into my throat and everything became hazy. I had the sudden realization that I could have a baby any day now and it would be HERE IN REAL LIFE.

Yikes. I think I just swallowed my gum.

Eeks!

The nursery is finally done, and along with a sense of relief and happiness comes an overwhelming wave of anxiety and fear. In about one month I will have a little son bubbling and gurgling and looking like Winston Churchill. I'm officially freaked out.

Honestly, for 9 months I've felt strangely detached, unaffected, calm. It wasn't that I wasn't excited or grateful about the baby. I just felt apart from the whole situation, as if I was watching someone else on television going through the pregnancy.

But now I'm starting to feel sudden panic attacks. They're small, but they're real, and they're making my heart race with anticipation.

On the list of things I usually think about that trigger the attacks are (in no particular order):

1) The baby will have down syndrome.

2) The baby will be sick or have some sort of genetic abnormality.

3) The baby will be humongous and the labor will be terrifying.

4) The hospital stay will be horrible and will scar me for life.

5) I will have the worst post-partum depression in the history of the world.

6) I will never lose the weight and become morbidly obese and a shut in. They will have to bury me in a piano box when I die.

7) The baby will hate me.

8) I have no idea what I'm doing and will be a horrible mother.

9) My husband will be the fun parent. I will be the strict, resented parent.

I didn't say they were all reasonable fears, btw. I know I may be going insane and just picking things out of thin air to be afraid of. That's usually how I roll, even without pregnancy and a baby on the way.

10) Add that to the list: I will go insane.

Seriously. I think I weigh more than Mike Tyson.

177. That's 33 pounds gained in 35 weeks. That's a big number. No wonder everything is creaking and I'm waddling around like a sea lion.

I went from 172 to 177 in 3 weeks, making my weight gain a very hefty 1.5 pounds a week...and that's rounding DOWN.

The doc said that I was within "the range," whatever that may be, and have gained about 33 pounds in my almost 9 months of being an incubator. I was shocked to hear that number so soon...33 pounds. YOWZA.

"Oh, you'll just have to lose more later. That's all. It's perfectly fine." She smiled as she measured my belly. "You're measuring great and everything looks terrific."

I think I may pass out when I finally get to 10 months. That's right...I said it...TEN MONTHS. I figured that one out the first month I was pregnant when I was counting down the weeks in my calendar.

So to recap:

Start weight 144

153 - 18 weeks - 9 pounds gained - 0.5 pound a week

164 - 24 weeks - 20 pounds gained - 0.54 pound a week

169 - 28 weeks - 25 pounds gained - 1.25 pounds a week

172 - 32 weeks - 28 pounds gained - 0.75 pound a week

177 - 35 weeks - 33 pounds gained - 1.6 pounds a week

5 Week Countdown

I've learned a few things this week...

1) Papaya, water and ground flax seed are your friends, although not all at once. Put it in your cereal, oatmeal, or yogurt to help with constipation. What? TMI?

2) Nothing gets rid of crippling pelvic pain...water, exercise, rest, prayer...ZIP, NOTHIN', NADA.

3) Husbands mean well, but know not what they do. Saying things like, "Oh, don't worry. You'll lose the weight!" is NOT HELPFUL and in fact puts a lot of pressure on. Saying things like, "I don't give a &$#% what you weigh. I love you no matter what, mother of my unborn child!" is PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE. Know it. Say it. Survive to live another day.

4) That fat feeling is not going away any time soon. Breast feeding is not the miracle weight loss cure. You will be overweight until you become a marathon runner. Love your body, even though it goes against every magazine, television show, and Neiman Marcus sales person you see every day.

5) In-laws are God's test to see if you are patient enough to be a parent. They will call you twice a day, every day, for the last three months of your pregnancy. They will threaten to be at the birth. They will offer to stay at your house for weeks on end as soon as you have the baby, thinking they're being "helpful." You are perfectly within your right to say NO WAY. They're not being helpful by being house guests. They are dying to see the baby. That's all. It's selfish on their part, although not purposefully so. SAY NO TO STRESS.

6) Your bladder is now a step stool for the baby. Map out the entire city so you know where every clean bathroom is located. You will be running to them every time you leave the house.

7) There are some stupid people out there that think it's ok to make rude commentary on your situation, although they are complete strangers. Just to recap previous posts: It is NOT OK to say, "GOD YOU LOOK ENORMOUS." or "ARE YOU EXPECTING TWINS?!" Nor is it ok to touch/rub/molest the belly, if you are a stranger. PERSONAL SPACE does not disappear as soon as someone conceives a baby...stupid.

8) Punching said stupid people is against the law. Although I don't think any jury on the planet would convict me. I won't test my theory, though. I am far too pregnant for jail.

9) Baby shows on TLC will make you freak out eventually. At first they'll be inspiring. Then, they'll be intriguing. After four months of watching, TERRIFYING. Natural births and water baths usually have the women screaming for death.

10) Boredom and loneliness come with not being able to drive or leave the house at 9 months pregnant. So does depression. It's hard to stay upbeat and excited when your carpal tunnel is preventing you from escaping the Law and Order marathons.

11) Men really DO think they will poke the baby if they have sex with you. Really. No, I'm not kidding.

Week 35

Baby Class Backlash

I went to baby class. Baby class was 4 hours long. I hated baby class.

The class itself might have been helpful, if it had been planned out, organized, and if they actually gave us more than one 10 minute break. Four hours is a looooooong time for pregnant women to sit in uncomfortable chairs.

I had a hard time after an hour, and started squirming in my chair like someone had dropped a feral cat down my pants. After 60 minutes, I was in serious discomfort...however, it was excruciating after 90 minutes. Most of the women began wandering aimlessly in and out the door after a while, looking for food, water, and the bathroom. It was sad and not unlike a zombie movie...except with third trimester bellies.

The instructor was, for lack of a better word, frustrating. I want to say she was terrible, but honestly, she was just incompetent to teach. There was no sort of organization, no lesson plan passed out. Posters were strewn about the floor and on the table in no decipherable order. There was nothing handed out, nothing explained about what we were about to discuss in 4 hours. She admitted to not being organized that morning, and every time she finished explaining something to us in a long, drawn out rambling discussion, she would finish off with, "Ok, and what else...hmm..." It was very disconcerting and did not make me feel confident in the hospital where I would be giving birth. I thought more than a few times, "I wonder if CPMC will let me give birth there? I wonder how much that would be?"

Questions were taken randomly and at any time during the lecture, so the hours dragged on and on. A few women overtook the instructor more than a dozen times, asking redundant and sometimes ridiculous questions that were better answered by their personal physicians. The instructor, having no control over the class, tried answering the questions as they came, which prolonged everything beyond the time alloted. It was horrible to sit and wait quietly, just to see someone's hand go up again. I came close to freaking out and screaming, "STOP RAISING YOUR HAND SO WE CAN GET THE #@+$&# OUT OF THIS CLASS!!"

But did I leave? NO. I had to see the tour. That was my goal...I thought, "I can do this. I can last until the tour of the maternity ward. I MUST SEE THE LABOR ROOM."

We were scheduled to see the room. Instead, we talked. And talked. And listened and talked. We breathed a few times. Then, we watched THE OTHER CLASS go to the labor room in our stead, since we were STILL #$%$ TALKING AND BREATHING. Mind you, this was 3 hours in to the class.

Finally, by the grace of God, we went on our tour. Thinking it was going to be informative, structured, and exciting, I smiled and skipped down the halls, looking at all the scary equipment with a grin and a giggle. YAYYYY FOR LABOR ROOMS!

Then, our instructor introduced us to the older, grey-haired security guard and told the following anecdotal story: "We had a kidnapping exercise at the hospital and THIS woman stopped the man from taking the baby onto the elevator. She just wouldn't let him on! Even though she was reprimanded for doing so, since employees are not to let themselves get hurt during emergencies...you should feel safe knowing this woman, (if she's on duty,) will not let your baby leave the premises!"

There was nervous laughter, and then we continued. I just stood, stunned, thinking, "AND HOW DID THE DUDE GET THAT FAR?! OUT OF THE NURSERY AND TO THE ELEVATOR?!"

I cried when we got home, thinking, I do NOT want to have my baby at a place where the only thing keeping someone from kidnapping my newborn is a 60+ security guard.

Just the thought of going through another 4 hours next week gives me the shakes. I was perfectly fine with the thought of laboring this baby out of my uterus until this class...and now, the anxiety has settled into my bones. Let's hope it doesn't last for the rest this pregnancy. Ugh.