Monday, September 26, 2011

Irony

Eight solid weeks of bed rest. Blessings, fasting, and prayers pleading with the heavens that this baby will stay in until he is strong enough to survive on his own. Enough of my tears to fill a bath to bathe my new baby in. Stress, stress, and more stress. Humble and grateful each night that I made it another day. Finally September 1st came and went. Our goal date. The date we had been clawing for. The date that we felt comfortable that he would be fine. And yet, this is what I have...

This picture is symbol of my life right now. My hospital bag. Packed, ready to go. Resting in the car so it will be there at a moments notice in case something happens. But nothing is happening. Nope, nothing. NADA! I am dilated to a three and 100% effaced. I should be lying in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm and an epidural on the way, right? I wish that were the case but I have been in this spot for 3 weeks now with no progress. Ironic? I think so. I have been on my treadmill for 45 minutes a day with no results. I have lost my plug, membranes have been stripped, eaten spicy food and still nothing. Jake and I have been joking that we need to do a blessing reversal somehow. Call off the powers of heaven that have so miraculously held my body where is needs to be. I am 39 weeks and very ready for this baby. I am trying to be patient. I really want to go on my own without being induced. It is really hard living on pins and needles. Where every pain or movement makes me wonder if this is it. Where each night I go to bed wishing that I will wake up in a gush of water knowing that my water broke. I would love to see Jake in a panic to rush to the hospital. He has had it too easy with the past two kids. How much longer can I hold out? How much more patience do I have? We will see....