kls_eloise (kls_eloise) wrote,

  • Mood:

We Are Not Amused

Not even a little bit.  Not a hint, not a smidge, not an iota.  Not even the vaguest whiff of a stray ester floating down the breeze.

I'm scheduled to be induced.  Unhappy?  Oh my, yes.

I'd feel better about this if I felt like I knew where the line is between "we're terrified of malpractice suits and hen-pecked by the hospital legal staff so we're going to push this so that we can say we took all the appropriate precautions" and "we're really legitimately concerned and this is our honest recommendation as professionals."  But I don't have the knowledge base to see the line through the murk, so here I am.  Taking what I hope are appropriate precautions and being VERY unhappy about it.

It was Dr. "don't be a wimp, you're pregnant, suck it up and wait it out" Walsh who was pushing it, so I feel a little more confident in the degree of medical necessity.  But not enough to feel good about it.  I mean - if she were actually done, I'd be in labor, right?  Ergo, no labor - not done.

I loathe this, and therefore I'm going to end up going into it with an extremely bad attitude.  Oh well - these last eight months have been emotionally the most miserable of my life, so I suppose it fits.  Kind of like the line from Zathras: "Very sad life.  Probably have very sad death.  But at least there is symmetry."

Grumpy.  Very, very grumpy.  AND my father is insisting on picking up the laptop tomorrow to try to fix the cursor drift problem.  Not that I don't appreciate it, but it couldn't wait a week?

Did I mention that I have to go in for this little horror show at 5:30 AM?  And that I'm not supposed to eat or drink anything after 10:00pm the night before?  Why not just say "we're only going through the motions and we're already planning the c-section?"  At least be honest about it.

Oh, and the library isn't ready for Mom (who has already been ALL over me about how much worse this is going to be,) because apparently the only sense of urgency around here is mine.  We don't have a pediatrician.  Ditto.  Childcare?  Don't get me started.  I'm sure that logic will dictate that I handle all of these things the day we get home from the hospital.  After all, I'll be home with all this time on my hands...

Be impressed that I'm not on here exploring the outer limits of my vocabulary for modifiers.  Be very impressed.

Cranky?  You bet your bippy.  Expect it to last for the next few years.
Tags: baby

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