Clock's a-ticking

So I know I haven't posted in awhile, and I apologize. For the record, Texas was fabulous. I was very happy to get to know the boy's family. The heat there is very humid, but preferable to the dry heat that is so pervasive in Kentucky. The drive back was pretty gruesome, but we did eventually make it. I still haven't recovered from the nocturnal way of life that the boy's house embraces. Granted, the baby doesn't really allow for a normal sleeping pattern to begin with, but I still feel like I'm simply pausing from running on the treadmill continuously each time I do catch a little bit of shut eye. I'd say I can't wait for the baby to arrive so I can get some rest, but that would make me an idiot, and despite a case of the pregnancy stupids, I'm not that dumb.

Actually, I'm just ready for her to arrive at this point. Braxton Hicks Contractions? They're supposed to be pressure- not pain. Unfortunately, Ava doesn't get that. I won't be in labor, but I'll totally be in pain, so much so that I'm pacing the hallways at night. I can't breathe regularly, despite the baby having dropped quite a bit. My back kills me, and I don't sleep for more than three hours at a time. I get dehydrated very quickly, and I can't do a thing most days. MISERY.

On a more positive note, when I got back from Texas, I went to the doctor, who said that everything looks good, my protein levels are where they need to be, I only gained two pounds in two weeks, and the baby is in the position she's supposed to be. Then she tells me I'm past due for an RH test (are we noticing that she fails to tell me about these important details? Kind of a trend...), so I had to go over to the hospital to get the test done and pre-register for delivery. The rooms look really nice, though I'm sure they'll be transformed in my nightmares to a version of hell once I experience the pain that accompanies a stay in one of them in real life. Still, it made it all that much more real. It's almost here....

Wait- IT'S ALMOST HERE. This realization kind of put me into a panic mode. Will I be a good mom? What if I screw her up? What if I make a mistake, and she gets hurt? Then I started to worry about the delivery itself. What if I'm too much of a wuss and I can't do it? What if the cord gets caught around her mouth? What if I die during delivery? I actually made the boy PROMISE he'd marry someone else so she'd have a mom if I did die. Can you say paranoid?

Now I'm just attempting to keep breathing. Four more weeks... four more weeks...