We are in the final countdown to go time. Twelve hours from when I am writing, my kids will check in at the hospital, and by noon, they will be heading to a surgical delivery room (I don't know the specifics of how to name it). By the time I write tomorrow night, I should have a full report on who was growing in there, and how mother and new baby are doing. You know the drill, people. Nothing but positive, happy thoughts as we navigate this phase.
I was useless for yet another day today. I have continued to have upset tummy, fatigue, and brain fog, all weekend. At first it seemed like just running out of energy from doing too many things for too long in excessive heat. Now I am less sure. My daughter has also been feeling less than stellar since we had brunch together after her last OB visit. Could something have been off at the restaurant? Or maybe she and I are experiencing the same sort of anxiety and excitement over tomorrow's blessed event? Whatever it is, it blows, and I can't wait to feel better. If I could just not hate myself every time I eat a bite of any kind of food, that would be enough for now.
Maybe I should take something to help me fall asleep, and just let the next eight hours go by quickly. That way I don't have to focus on the heat or the agony of waiting until we meet grandbaby number two. ("Meet" is a strong word--how about "get news of and video chat" instead?)
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