Yesterday I called my doctor’s office and told her how very tired I am of this overdue game.  She had me come in and we discussed induction options.

(I know that everyone has different ideas on induction.  That’s fine.  But just so you know, I seem to have developed a severe nut allergy so any comments from the peanut gallery would surely make me go into anaphylactic shock.  Do you have an epi pen ready?  And are you willing to stab it in my thigh and have the guilt of my allergic reaction hanging over your head?  Then please keep the “just wait a few more days…that baby will come when she’s ready!” remarks to yourself.  I don’t mean to sound like a grumpy old bag, but, well, that’s kind of what I am right now.)

I am penciled in to arrive at the hospital tomorrow morning and they are going to use a cervical gel to try to get the party started.  It won’t be as invasive as simply having my water broken and starting a pitocin drip.  My doctor is hoping that my body just needs a little nudge from the prostaglandin gel to get the labour going, and that’s my hope too.

So.  Today I have plans to clean the house, pack my bag, and drink a few dozen frappuccinos to toast my last day as a pregnant lady.

Here, here!