And then I ate breakfast on Wednesday and everything stopped. I had already tapped Eric to stay home so it was nice that he was with me, but it was so frustrating.
I had a bit of a mental breakdown Thursday at the thought of now having so much less time before my induction Monday morning and sent a panicked message to my midwife, who never actually saw it before I was able to talk to her in person on Friday.
Having the induction puts restrictions on me that I do NOT WANT. I have to be constantly monitored, I think they're going to want me to have IV fluids in addition to pitocin, which I do NOT WANT. I can handle the pitocin, I just want to be able to hydrate myself. I might be restricted to ice chips only, which is a fuckery beyond imagine because you need energy to deal with labor and if I can't even have clear fluids (which is a minor enough fuckery to me) that's just bullshit on all levels and I'm just being set up to fail.
I'm planning on bringing in food anyway. Because fuck those policies. Especially now that the American Society of Anesthesiologists recommends a light meal in labor and not the fasting that was previously pushed.
"A light meal could include fruit, light soups, toast, light sandwiches (no large slices of meat), juice and water."
The cherry on the fucking top is after having some awesome sex last night (I'm beyond caring about TMI at this point) I woke up early in very timeable, very painful contractions that were around 4 minutes apart, lasting for a minute. I started timing them to get to the hour mark and right at the hour mark they started spacing out. And then I was just exhausted from getting up early (and I had eaten at that point) so I laid down and they fucking disappeared entirely.
I got a nice nap in though. But I was pissed off.
So I went across the street to the high school and walked a mile. Goddammit body, stop fucking with me and just get it done with already.
And then I walked.