Please, Please, Please INDUCE ME!

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.

My midwife appointment is tomorrow. She's a Certified Nurse Midwife, which means she works under an OBGYN, which means she has access to drugs and is more forward thinking than a "lay midwife."

I'm hoping I can talk her in to inducing me. Praying, actually. I can't do this anymore. I'm exhausted, hormonal, emotional, and might be going crazy.

My feet, ankles, and hands are staying swollen. My knee joints are killing me - and I've never had knee pain in my life. I can't sleep at night. Last night I got about five hours of interrupted sleep - interrupted by weird dreams and bathroom dashes and heartburn. Heartburn medicine actually no longer works, it makes me sick to my stomach b/c I've had so much of it. NONE of my clothes fit any longer, even the biggest and baddest of the maternity pants. This is my list MINUS all the very personal stuff no one wants to read about.

My dreams have gone from simply being "lively" to being "bizarre." Last night I dreamed I was in Victorian England at a finishing school where they intended to make me become a permanent resident because my guardian died. But I didn't want to be there anymore, so I went up to the attic where I read the last letter sent to me by my guardians. As I read, this random guy appeared in a butler's uniform and said he knew I wanted to leave. Then it started raining inside the attic. And filling with water. He opened a door in the wall and on the other side I saw something like Wonderland on the other side, only it was raining. This guy tells me, as I start to pass through the door, "Just call me 'yours' if you need anything." Later in the dream I needed help escaping from something vaguely badger-like and then I realized I really had to shout "Yours!" to get this random magic butler to appear. Yeah. Lewis Carrol's drug addiction has nothing on pregnancy dreams.