Dear Baby, Come out, come out, wherever you are

The plus side of waking up at four A.M. is that I'm getting some extra laundry done before I go to farmers market, and apparently four also happens to be peak writing* time. Really neither of those are good enough reasons (in my humble opinion) to be up before the sun. To be fair, I can't think of any really good reason to be up this early, with the exception of being in labor. I feel like lack of sleep is something best saved for after the baby is born. My two year old who has crawled into bed with me and is not allowing me as much space as my current figure requires seems to have a differing opinion.

It's not even that I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm just tired of going to the doctor. It's a once a week, half my day down the drain, festival of not getting anything done except wrangling the children around a small waiting room and avoiding the loss of either one of them. Sure, I understand that complications can crop up in the last month, but I don't understand why I have to wait two hours for an appointment to basically confirm that I still have a baby in my belly.

Doctor: How are you feeling?

Me: Pregnant

Doctor: Have you started drinking, smoking, or doing crack cocaine in the past week?

Me: No...wait...ya...No

Doctor: And I see here you are gaining weight.

Me: Thanks for mentioning it.

Doctor: And your children still seem to enjoy chewing on the chairs in the waiting room.

Me: They do keep busy.

*Crickets*

Me: So.....could you make up some lab work or something, so that I don't feel like I wasted my day? K thanks.

I'm going to bring my laundry next time and fold it while I wait. Maybe they will get me in faster.

*Note: peak writing hours and peak editing hours do not coincide. Once I decide on some hours when I feel like putting forth an effort in the grammar and spelling department you'll know.