My entire pregnancy, I was convinced I would have my little boy on July 9. Obviously, that didn't happen.
July 1, my son woke up and said he would be born "in 11 days", meaning July 12. He previously correctly predicted my youngest daughter's birth as well.
I've been trying, I think way too hard, to start my own labour this week. Nipple stim, orgasms as much as possible, walking, self-cervix checks, and even had a sweep. I'm still here, pregnant.
I lost my plug over two days, and it turned to bloody show, and nothing.
So tonight, I'm officially giving up. No more checks, no more orgasms, no more pumping. Just gonna relax and take it as it is. I do believe he'll be here by the end of the weekend. I think I've been very stressed trying to get everything together and dealing with 3 kids by myself on top of that, and then as much as I try to "relax" at night, I subconsciously know I've been too focused on trying to evict this baby.
So starting tonight, no more eviction attempts. My kids are off to their dad's for the weekend starting tomorrow morning, so I can finally sit and relax and not worry about sweeping the crumbs off the floor 6 times a day because they can't remember to eat over their plates and not the floor, and I can not worry about them tattling on another because they broke a pencil or are fighting over a toy or whether to watch Treehouse or Disney Jr.
I'm going to stand on my porch tonight in the direction of the moon, rub my belly, and that's it. No more eviction attempts.