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Please, let me whine a little

As you guys patiently (so patiently, thank you <3) know, I am four hundred weeks pregnant. If my due date wasn't even for another week or two, I'd feel more or less fine. People are driving me up the wall - if one more person who gave birth at 37 weeks tells me what it's like to be pregnant when I've been knocked up for five whole weeks longer than them, I will freak out - but physically I feel okay. I'm going for huge walks and cooking and trying to stay sane, though I've run out of things to do.

I had an absolutely awful midwife appointment yesterday, the first non-excellent midwife of the whole experience I think. Her English was pretty poor - by the end I was speaking to her in Spanish. She was very very nervous, and even if she had perfect English, her communication skills were horrible. She acted like an induction (which I'll have to have if I don't go into labour by 9am on Sunday) was the end of the planet, and was tsking at me, as women from Spain have the ability to do with deep preternatural disdain, like I can fucking do anything about it. She did a sweep that was so violent that I was nearly screaming (very high pain threshold here, this was ungodly), whilst lecturing me about my crotch piercing. Like, do you want me to take it out RIGHT NOW? NO? They shut the fuck up. After I dunno, ten minutes of this agony I said "how much more????" and she said "I'm waiting for you to say when to stop." I yelled "you have to TELL ME THAT. STOP STOP STOP." That was just part of it - my very very soft spoken and gentle husband ended up raising his voice and freaking out while I just sat there in horror at how stupid and useless she was. I'll spare you the rest and yes I will complain after this is all done, but it was upsetting and depressing.

My mother booked her trip earlier than I had asked her to, so I'm going to be overwhelmed from an unavoidably shitty birth experience and with a one week old. Please don't say, oh she'll cook. My mother doesn't cook. I don't want her to cook. I just want space. Lots and lots and lots of space.


People are messaging and calling all the time asking if I'm still pregnant. That's not really bothering me as other people had promised it would, since they mean well, but the jokes are wearing thin when you get to half a month past the due date. Genuine concern is really nice and warm. I can appreciate it.

I'm supposed to be using this fancy schmancy birthing centre at the hospital, but they don't let you if you go over 42 weeks, which I'm perilously close to. That cutoff has been really stressing me out because they make SUCH a big deal of how shit the labour ward is and how great the centre is. Well after yesterday I don't even care. The labour ward is still in a top notch hospital and that's where most people give birth, so they can go fuck themselves. I'm just worried about the induction (please please don't advise on inductions <3) since, you know, everyone has been so focused on hand wavey birth centre is so great nonsense that they haven't bothered discussing what will happen in the actual induction-induced labour. The attitude feels like, well if you're not coming here, not my problem. Also will be included in my grumbling letter at them.

I was absolutely fine with pregnancy until 41 weeks, then mentally I just got tired and dejected. I still feel physically pretty active and fine, less tired than even a month ago, but emotionally I'm all out. I'm worried I'm going to be mad at the baby, which is stupid, I know, especially considering it's my stupid uterus that won't just fucking contract already, but after the most ridiculously easy and relaxed pregnancy this is taking the joy out of it a lot. I know I have nothing to complain about, being healthy and active still. I'm just having a little pity party.

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