I am so terribly tardy on a post that I’m not even going to bother explaining. I yearn for the days of telegrams when you didn’t have the luxury of verbosity. Had awesome baby shower. Stop. Mother arrived. Egad. Stop. Hacking Cough. Pulled rib muscle. Stop. Couldn’t take it anymore, rushed to hospital. Stop. Prodded and poked me, I hate docs. Stop. Gave me pain meds. Heaven. Stop. This coming from the girl resisting the epidural. Stop. Doc claims I am 2 cm dilated. Stop. To my credit, not hyperventilating. Stop. Feeling a bit better. Mom and I getting along. Hallelujah. Stop.
Mood forecast: slightly cloudy, torn between wanting to have baby soon versus struggling with rib pain. Want to be healthy for labour.
Verdict: Control is a tricky thing. The more I want it, the more it eludes me.
So be it. Stop.