My Cervix is named Hodor

WARNING: The post below contains a Game of Thrones spoiler alert! 

Did I ever tell you guys how my cervix is nicknamed Hodor? 

I know. I basically have no shame. For those of you who have never seen Game of Thrones, let me explain. Hodor is the name of a brave and incredibly sweet giant, who only says "Hodor" and dies valiantly "holding the door" against the evil forces of ice zombies who are trying to murder his companions.

Hodor.

Similarly, when we first got the news that I was pregnant, one of the biggest risks factors was preterm birth.  It was up to my cervix to "hold the door" and prevent this from happening, and for the past 4 months, Sean has been feeding my Hodor liquid courage in the form of weekly progesterone shots that would help my cervix stay closed. 

Recently, the progesterone shots have stopped, and Hodor's herculean strength is finally running out.  This bring us to our current state.  I'm now 38 weeks pregnant and officially miserable.  According to my doctor, that's because I've been walking around 3 centimeters dilated.

*Side note: I'm not exactly a secretive person, and basically everyone in town knows about my dilation. Last Friday, I went to a party where multiple city council members approached me to discuss my recent cervical measurements, proving once again that city council is the last remaining unit of government that is still responsive to the concerns of their constituents.

Anyways, I'm officially done being pregnant.  This baby is strong, and healthy and I'm ready for him to be born already.  That's why today I was in my office looking up exercises to induce labor on pinterest, and I found this picture.

Look at this lady.

My first reaction to this photo is to hate on this woman for wearing white spandex. (What if her water breaks? What if she falls down in that field? Speaking of that field, isn't is probably full of ticks?) But, to be honest, I would never confident enough to wear white spandex even when NOT PREGNANT, so I think in this case I'm probably just unworthy to be in the presence of her Lycra wrapped suavity.

When I look at this lady, I'm consumed by jealousy. She definitely looks a lot more comfortable than I feel right now, and she gets to frolic around in a field, hopefully with the foresight to bug-spray her ankles first. Meanwhile, I'm in my living room, doing lunges and other pinterest exercises in the hopes of inducing labor.  The only consolation for my envy? I guess I still have something she doesn't: Hodor.