After a truly harrowing week of heinous sleep deprivation and discomfort, I took myself in for an internal check yesterday. I was convinced that I'd be going into labor at any moment, and frankly, the mental stress was getting to me. In a big way.
Thankfully, I have an awesome doctor's office who deals with panic-stricken, hormonally-overwrought, sleep-deprived, bitchy women as if it's a daily occurrence (because, most likely, it is). I have not changed much, if at all, from Thursday. Still just over a centimeter dilated and perhaps 40-50% effaced. With that in mind, they gave me a prescription for Ambien and sent me home for some good rest.
And, oh, sweet Jesus, what a difference one normal night of sleep makes. I feel one hundred percent better. I'm not edgy. I've smiled a few times! I got up with Hannah this morning without feeling put upon. I can even walk better.
Now, nine days doesn't seem so insurmountable. At, if it means I'll have a nice fat baby with mature lungs, I'll put up with whatever those nine days bring.
So there. Mental health check accomplished, I'm off to put Hannah down for a nap, and perhaps take one myself.