meaningless, futile rage

A midwife poked her finger 'almost, but not quite entirely' into my cervix today. This indicated that I'm starting to efface and dilate to nearly one centimeter. This sounds like an exciting bit of news, but rather than clinging to the thought that I might not be carrying all this weight (214 lbs) for much longer, that this will be over soon, mostly this ob/gyn appointment just served to upset me. Pain makes me mad, and with my legs up in the air, Travis holding my hand, I wanted to hurt somebody because I was in pain. Not to mention crying before the procedure, because being internally examined is a frightening, embarrassing experience that I would have avoided, but my husband came with me so I kind-of couldn't duck out. He soothed me. I hated needing to be soothed. I hate 'needing' to go to the doctor, and I wish I could just stop dealing with them after the birth. I wish they'd just give me a script for birth control (why can't the pill be over -the-counter?) to start taking after I am done breastfeeding. I don't want to see any of those fuckers again. I just want to get back to normal.