Table 144

Taking care of a brood on bedrest is a monumental task. I get daily 3:00 p.m. headaches and occassionally keel over entirely, rolling around on the tile floor jsut waiting for the day to be over. We have 14 more days to go until term, so it's another 2 weeks of mayhem and havoc for me.

And this is my daddy moment: *I* am complaining about Mel being on bedrest.

Bubby is successfully staying put, even though Mel has taken it upon herself to shower and make herself a meal every now and again lest the "Yellow Wallpaper"esque insanity of staying on bedrest sets in. Mental health is important, too. We're heading for yet another ultrasound in the morning just to confirm what we already know: the bubby is just fine. But should we have to march into a hospital in the next 14 days, I damn well want to be armed for the battle. And to tell them we do/don't want the labor to be stopped. And if we don't, I want to make up my mind about it tomorrow rather than walk into the hospital having no idea if they'll force us to stop it or not. I'll show up with Mel crowning. It's better than showing up and hoping they give you what you want. Whoopsie, nothing you can do. Too bad, so sad, here's your baby.