Ah, yes. The magic words every pregnant woman wants to hear, when she’s late in the third trimester and can’t turn over in bed without looking so much like a breeching whale that David Attenborough is knocking at the door hoping to film a documentary on a new species. If you’ve been there, you know exactly what words I’m talking about.
“Could be any day now.”
Sweet hallelujah! There IS a light at the end of this tunnel, even if I can’t actually FIT in said tunnel. Have I mentioned according to my dr’s records I’ve put on 41 pounds since March? Mmmyep. If that doesn’t make a girl feel good I don’t know what does. Pretty soon I will be squeezing into these puppies:
Anyway, Dr. said the magic words yesterday at our 36 week check. Now, don’t get me wrong, he said it more as an overall “yep, it might happen” rather than an “expect to go into labor right now.” Just a way of saying, yep, it’s almost that time so don’t freak out in case it does. Obviously, we want Caroline to continue incubating as long as possible, so please don’t think I’m chomping at the bit to have her out tomorrow or that I’m going to start thinking of myself as overdue. I know it’s important for her to bake a little longer. I’m only
mostly joking. Nevertheless, it is good to hear from the doctor that he’s confident that if she did come, more than likely everything would be just fine.
That being said…do I STILL really have 4 weeks left till my EDD? Fuck me! (However, Dr did say that babies do tend to be born earlier and somewhat smaller than average up here, I’m assuming due to altitude or barometric pressure or thin air or a preponderance of unicorn farts or something scientific like that. Who knows. But maybe it’s true and it won’t be 4 more full weeks. Fingers crossed.)
After giving me the mother of all horrible internal checks (seriously it was awful), Dr declared she is still head down, growing according to schedule, and her heartbeat is slowing down to a good rate. I’m even a tiny bit dilated! Not like that means much at this point but hey, makes me feel good that my body is responding in roughly the way it is supposed to. I also had my Strep-B culture done and thankfully do not need another internal exam until closer to the due date thankyoubabyjesusbecausethatsucks. So that being said, full steam ahead on the Let’s Get This Show on the Road Train.
Caroline’s newest trick, by the way? Planting both feet firmly on my ribs ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I am seriously (as in, not even joking) beginning to bruise on my ribs. When I sit up I can feel one or both of her feet pop around the edges of my ribs and Jesus Fuck does that hurt! This morning I almost could not sit up to get out of bed. Please, please, please drop soon. Please.
Oh, and on the subject of dropping. I have had a virtual crew of complete strangers (you know, people you’ve never met before) look at me and say “Wow, you’ve dropped!” I just give them this look like yeah, tell that to my bruising ribs and my inability to breathe when I lie down. If I hear one more stranger tell me I’ve dropped, I’m gonna drop my palm on their face.
Oh, we booked a “babymoon”! Or, more like… “last date with the two of us not involving a babysitter.” We were sort of planning on doing that last night, because several months ago I bought tickets to see The Book of Mormon in Denver. But, since getting off Isle Estes these days is sort of a pain we would have had to make an overnight out of it, bring the dog with us, stay at my parents’ house, come back early or take time off work, yadda yadda. It had just become a pain, so we sent the tickets to my parents as a birthday present for my mom instead. I was bummed, but happy that they apparently loved it.
So, instead, we are going down next Saturday to see a show in Denver and stay at a nice hotel overnight, since we won’t have to rush to get back home. It’ll be our last chance to chill out together, just the two of us, and be out of Estes for a little while…probably for the last time until the baby comes and/or the roads open up, whichever happens first. (My guess is baby.)
Part of my “postpartum goodie bag” package arrived from Walmart last night. (I was hoping it would be my new pair of boots, but no dice. Just part of the Christmas morning-like joy of doing all our shopping online these days.) Oooh yes, definitely getting close now. Because nothing screams “you are either getting ready to have a baby or perform surgery on a small animal” like a box full of giant thunderpads, stool softeners, witch hazel wipes and doggie tinkle pads. My Depends and granny panties are still on backorder. Shucks.