Sweet Husband: Your blog is a little sad this week.
Me: It's snowing. It's cold. And we haven't had a baby yet. What else is there to say?
Sweet Husband: *shrug*...Yeah.
I'm never late for anything, yet somehow here we are...absolutely positive about my dates, and 41 weeks and almost 3 days pregnant.
I could talk about being tired, but that gets, well, tiring.
Or, I could talk about how I've got to be setting speed records between emotional highs and lows. Like, in the space of five minutes my thoughts can go from the depths of despair....
- I'm going to be pregnant forever and then have 60 hours of excruciating labor and then the baby's going to choke on poop and die. (Yes, I'm aware it's technically not possible to both be pregnant forever and to have a baby.)
- My stupid cervix is broken. How did I end up with this crappy cervix that won't get bigger?
- No, I don't want to go out or watch a movie or knit or eat or bathe. I want to have a baby. That is the only activity I am interested in.
- Planning activity so that it can be "inconveniently interrupted"? Not. Working. Observing that it would be wonderful/horrible for the baby to be born on "x" date because "x" was born/died/saw his shadow/danced a jig on that day? Not. Working.
- I'm going to punch the next person that talks to me.
- Do I roll over and risk tearing my hips in half? Or stay laying on this side and cry?
- Is it worth the shame of being a thirty-year-old bed-wetter to not have to get up and pee again?
....to some much more sunshiny places....
- I have friends that made me laugh for almost three hours straight the other night.
- Moe is just the perfect size and weight to lay against my back and make it feel better.
- People are really nice to you when you're obviously, hugely pregnant.
- Like Soda Lady downstairs and Young Office Maintenance Man, neither of whom I'd really talked to much before, but both of whom have the politest, most non-intrusive way of asking how things are going.
- Or Nice Co-Worker, who is getting awfully close to nine months along herself, but is still driving me to work in the mornings and offering curbside drop-off. (I'm taking the stairs on the off-chance that it will start labor, but still, the offer is sweet.)
- Or Random Stranger who unnecessarily stepped out into the, like, negative-10-degree street the other day to hold a door open for me.
- Or Nice Baker at our local breakfast spot who told me last Saturday, "This will be the day, I'm just sure of it." (It wasn't, of course, but I appreciated his earnestness all the same.)
- Nice Office Secretary has nicknamed the baby Enriquez. It's Spanish for "Henry", which I loved for a boy's name, but Sweet Husband vetoed. She wanted to use the name for her baby boy too, but was similarly vetoed. For some reason, I think this is a hilarious joke.
- Blueberry muffins.
Or, I could talk about how Sweet Husband is a rockstar. Actually, that bears shouting: SWEET HUSABND IS A ROCKSTAR. Mostly, just for putting up with my crap...and not only putting up with it, but assuring me that it really isn't that bad. But also for doing the laundry and the dishes and the cooking and keeping the dogs and chickens and ducks from starving to death. And for picking up things that I drop on the floor. And for helping me put my shoes and socks on in the morning. And for spooning, even though he's not a spooner. Oh, and for not even being ruffled at the words "vaginal exam" or the ensuing procedure. (I mean, I figured he'd be fine, but that's not exactly a boundary we've crossed before....)
Or, I could talk about how, while he may be a stubborn little ass, the Kid is kicking like a champ and is apparently perfectly happy and healthy. It's makes me laugh to watch him jumble around. My whole belly wiggles.
I'm completely less-than-thrilled about having him induced (which is where things are headed if he doesn't decide to make an appearance this weekend, 42 weeks being the limit for a number of reasons), but I am glad we've given him, and been encouraged to give him, these extra few weeks. Everyone has different considerations, of course, but at that point--for me--I think I will feel like we've done everything we can to avoid interventions, and I can be at peace with whatever we have to do to get the Wee Man born.
Apparently, I did have something to say after all....