I am still here. And I am still pregnant. I know you must be tired of reading about it. I know that I am tried about writing about it.
Yesterday I went to the hospital in hopes of an induction. The doctors pumped my body with oxytocin for three hours. They stopped because too much can be harmful to the baby. I had a few mild contractions. After stopping the medication, my contractions stopped within one hour. I stayed in the hospital overnight "just in case." The doctors examined my cervix before and after the procedure, as well as this morning. The "induction" accomplished nothing. And now I am home again.
I had a decision to make. I could ask the doctor to do a C-section, or I could continue along the current path and let nature attempt to take its course. Because there is no medical reason for a C-section, I have decided to wait it out. Unfortunately, the Dude is running out of time. My mom flies back to the U.S. on Saturday.
My mother came to Germany with one purpose: to be at the birth of her grandchild. She may leave without seeing that happen. I feel really bad about this, mostly because my mom and I ran out of things to do about a week and a half ago. We are bored out of our minds. Unfortunately, my mother does not speak German, which rules out television and trashy magazines. And you know what, dude, you can only clean the living room so many times.
This entire experience is teaching me a not so wanted lesson. I am a very organized, planned person. Under normal circumstances I need to know where to be and when at all times. I live by my schedule and my calendar and cannot stand it when people are late.
When I was told that having children would fundamentally change my life, I had no idea that it may have to fundamentally change the way I am. I am in the process of learning (the hard way) that kids do not come with a calendar or a schedule. I have to be "flexible," which is not really in my DNA. I am trying to come to terms with this and the poor German is getting the short end of my temper these days.
I reached an emotional low point this past weekend. On Saturday I received a ticket in the mail informing me that I was at fault in my accident in November. Although I still do not believe that I was completely at fault, fighting the ticket is more trouble than its worth. All of the pressure of the waiting, paying my income taxes, trying to reschedule March lessons (I thought I would be at home with my baby by then!), and answering the phone to, "Yes, I am still pregnant," led to a bit of a crying.
My doctor and midwife said that the pressure I put on myself is probably keeping the baby inside. Why come out to all the self-made drama? The Dude is like his dad. He is no fool. So I am trying to adopt a "Who cares?" attitude. It does not fit real well, but at this point, I don't have many options left.