I went to my 40-week appointment this morning and got some good news. After putting off dilation/effacement checks for the last two weeks, I decided to go ahead and get more bang for my buck out of this appointment, so to speak. As it turns out, the doctor confirmed that the baby’s head is “very low” and that I am 3 centimeters dilated and 70% effaced. Before we get all excited and pick up the phone, it still doesn’t really mean anything is imminent. What it does mean is that the baby knows where the exit is and if I still have to be induced next Monday, they’re not going to have to do a bunch of crazy stuff to get my body ready for the induction. Very good news indeed! The process of getting induced already sounds like a chore but if my body still wasn’t quite ready for it, then it was going to be a much more unpleasant road. I thought I was feeling some very mild contractions at distant intervals last night and I was wondering if it was doing the trick so here’s hoping things keep progressing naturally!
The due date has arrived and, as suspected, doesn’t mean much. It’s been such a flurry of emotion and activity in the last couple weeks since we reached the “safe zone” in this pregnancy, being excited about the possibility of each passing day, which turned into anxiety of how much our lives would change dramatically on that day, and then finally disappointment that the day was kind of like yesterday.
I came to the realization last night that we aren’t so much overdue but that we just have a new due date of November 23rd, which is not some arbitrary date set 7 months ago when the baby was an inch long. And if the baby decides to come before then, we can still consider him a surprise. But until then, we have this bonus time where we can still do pre-baby things knowing that the uncertainty has a true end date. I can carry him around with me all the time, all without a sling, a stroller, a carseat, or a diaper bag. I get to enjoy having this baby all to myself for a little while longer, feeling him react whenever I eat and seeing if I can master whether that tiny protrusion at the top of my belly is a knee or a heel. I’ve been lucky enough to feel good and strong throughout this entire pregnancy, even at the finish line so I can still run whatever errands, get out for some exercise, and meet up with friends–and that was just this week. I even got a pedicure last night. Mike, who is awesome and brave, is going for a bike ride this morning. Our afternoon is open for whatever we feel like doing. We can enjoy another leisurely brunch out tomorrow morning. This is not a failure to meet some deadline but a change of perspective and it’s still looking pretty good to me.
Friday the 13th? Check. Expecting 6-12 inches of snow this weekend? Check. Pedicure and foot massage tonight? Check.
Game on, kid.
So we all know we’re getting work done on the house, to put it mildly. The guy that delivered the new upstairs windows yesterday asked “so, what, about a month and a half left?” and I responded with “well, due date is Saturday.” With some disbelief that I mistook for being in such great shape (smirk), he remarked “no way–you haven’t even dropped yet.” Um, thanks? Okay, perhaps I’m not giving him enough credit. As a professional window deliverer, he probably knows exactly where the baby is in my pelvis.
*Just in case you were wondering and checking back often.
Yesterday we started our 39th week! One more week to go, if the kid is like me and tries to be punctual so that no one is inconvenienced… and two more weeks if the kid is like Mike and tries to push it to the absolute limit before getting kicked out. According to my last conversation with the OB, they won’t induce labor until you reach 42 weeks (when the placenta start to no longer be efficient in providing for the baby) but they also try to avoid scheduling such an event on weekends and holidays so it’s looking like the absolute end date would be 11/23. Can I wait that long? Yet, at the same time, how weird is it to know for sure that our baby will definitely be with us by a certain date?
Coincidentally enough, our due date for the house renovations has also been pushed out until the 23rd. I know I have very little control over both of these events but I’m determined to do what I can to help things along, at least in my own labor department. Mike and I picked up a Wii last night, partially lying by saying it’s for all the guests we’ll be entertaining when the baby arrives, and spent the rest of the night trying out all the games. This morning I cleaned the house and then in the afternoon Mike and I tackled yard work for 3 hours. Sooooo gratifying. Call it the burst of energy that pregnant women supposedly get before they go into labor, but I suspect it has something to do with the obnoxiously large brunch we enjoyed at the Original Pancake House beforehand. I have since refueled with an obscene amount of brownies. (Note to baby: Don’t ever say your mom didn’t do anything right by you.)
Oh, I’m definitely doing it. No more putting off any basic picking up or cleaning. Laundry gets thrown in the wash as soon as it becomes a full load. The freezer gets a new quick-fix addition or two everytime I come back from the grocery store. I’ve reprioritized my already limited wardrobe so that I only have to go to one easy-to-access box for everything instead of diving under the bed for various pieces of clothing from my previous organizational attempt. I saw an infomercial on a steamer mop and I’m convinced I just have to have one.
And I’m not alone. Mike has made several lists of things to do, and most importantly, things are actually getting crossed off! The car seat base has been installed. His hospital bag is now packed. Contact lists have been created. We have gone over and over our “labor checklist” so that we are less likely to run amok when the time comes (yeah, right).
We suspect the furry siblings-to-be are doing their part to not be forgotten when we bring home the new member of the family. They’ve been ultra-cute and affectionate.