Tomorrow

Tomorrow I go back to the OB for another routine check-up. This time I'm prepared with a whole slew of questions. Can Daddy cut the cord? Can I please, please, please at least touch Lia before you take her away? Can Gram come into the OR after Daddy leaves? Do I have to fast before? Can I eat after?

Even though we're still ~12 days away from the big day, I need all of my ducks in a row. It's funny. When I thought the show would start when it started (whether in the middle of the night, the middle of the road, or the middle of the rodeo), I didn't need all of these questions answered. Now that the show has a time and a date assigned to it, I *need* to know all of these minuscule details. I guess because the whole situation is out of my hands, I've become a total control freak. If I can't have it "my way," I must know every intimate detail of "your way."

I hope to hear good news tomorrow. Something like, "You've only gained 3 ounces since last time you were here!" or "Huh. Looks like she might be able to get herself out of this mess afterall," would be nice. I hope to hear yes, yes, yes, no, yes when I ask the questions above. I hope to feel even more at ease about this whole thing than I do right now. A far cry from my rendition of Janis Joplin from last week, but if I can have even a fraction of what I want, it'll do.