Vacation, Still Pregnant

I have reached the point in my pregnancy, especially given all of the contractions and issues I've had in the last few weeks, where I have to start every phone conversation with the statement, "Hi! I'm not in labor." I called my sister a few days ago but missed her and didn't leave a message. She called back minutes later, panicked. "OH, GOD ARE YOU IN LABOR?"

And I had to say no. No, honey I'm not. It feels like I never will be. I've crossed the threshold from being constantly terrified that my baby will be born too early to the other side, the She'll Be Fine Let's Do This I'm Dying Of Pregnancy side. I hate this side even worse. At my last doctor's appointment, I saw the nurse practitioner instead of my OB, which is fine because my only question was "Is it over yet?" to which she cheerfully answered, "Nope! Nothing to worry about for now! You've still got some time!" Patrick does not see the problem here, but clearly, the woman is deranged. Just looking at me you can tell that this has gone on entirely too long and that something, anything needs to be done about it. Please. *sob*

So, we took a vacation.

This was where I was at my last post: not ready to have a baby yet, scared of what would happen, conservative OB making me more worried, all in light of our imminent plans to leave town. I almost cancelled the whole trip, but I was feeling fine and we wanted to go so much. Our last hurrah as a three person family. So we went. And it was lovely.

We drove to the D.C. area and stayed with two separate sets of friends for a few nights each. The first set, "DINKS" (dual-income, no kids) as they call themselves, were properly introduced to the joys and sorrows of the age of TWO and we provided mental birth control for at least a year. Since they are some of our oldest friends, we apologized a little at first, then chalked it up to Stories That Will Be Hilarious Later. Like how our friend took Patrick and Colin sailing and he SCREAMED the entire time until they were in sight of the dock, at which point he started shouting "We did it!" triumphantly and then telling everyone how much he liked the boat. Or our trip to an Air and Space Museum which ended in a series of fits so violent that I gave up trying to quiet Colin down and started taking pictures instead. You know, for blackmail.









Our other set of hosts was another of our oldest and closest. They have two little girls, flanking Colin in age, making that part of the stay slightly more comfortable since their kids were throwing fits alongside Colin. That particular misery does love company, and it was such nice company. We spent a day on the Mall in D.C. and at the Natural History museum, where Colin failed to be impressed by the giant dinosaur or the enormous elephant. He was mildly interested in the butterflies (which we did not pay to see, so he looked into the exhibit longingly) and managed three seconds to look at the Hope Diamond. ("Shiny, Mommy.") Instead, he found the railings and staircases to be endlessly fascinating and found great joy in throwing himself on the ground in front of the great masses of roving crowds. It was a lovely time.







And, just for the sake of posterity, this is what I looked like two weeks ago. While the trip itself was a success, my back will probably never forgive me for riding in the car that long. 



God, please let it end soon.