Ug, after a week of intestinal and mental angish, no baby.  Le sigh… I’m still dialated to a 3.  I’m still terrified, I’m still really, really unsure that I can do this and perfectly aware that the second this kid comes out, my next year and a half are shot.  No sleep, more messes, more terror, I get it, but let’s get it over with already.  Let’s just start this already, the sooner he gets here, the sooner my body and life will eventually find a new normal.  Eventually…  right??  My life will be okay eventually?!

Someone please convince my body to kick this bugger out?!