That’d be the sound of a very pregnant woman twiddling her thumbs.
Cause that’s pretty much all I can do right now.
My parents arrived yesterday, much to my excitement since 1. I haven’t seen them in over a year and 2. I enjoy spending time with my parents and I find copious amounts of comfort in having familiarity around me.
My dad will be here for two weeks and my mom for six weeks. Piet is currently out grocery shopping with them, which leaves me here to sit for a while.
Because I had a check up at the gynecologist today, 4 days away from my due date, and while the baby is still head down and apparently firmly positioned in my pelvis, there is no sign that I’ll be giving birth soon. No dilation, from what I can tell mucus plug still in place.
So the game plan is to have another check up next week (if I haven’t had the baby by then) and if nothing changes, to discuss induction the week after. From what the doctor said, the maximum we’d wait would be until July 7, although if there are any changes (i.e. my blood pressure goes up or bleeding, etc.) then obviously it’ll be done sooner.
I wasn’t planning on blogging much about this because I figured with my luck I’d jinx everything and end up having to be induced on the last day but then I decided, screw it.
This baby is going to come when he’s ready, unless he’s not ready until the 7th. And until he (or my uterus) decides that the time has come, I can’t do much besides wait.
But like Tom Petty says, the waiting is the hardest part.
Not only am I anxious to finally have this baby out of my body, to see him and hear him and have him be totally 100% here, but I’m also continuously trying to wrap my head around the whole labor thing and simply unable to do it. By now I’ve heard plenty of birth stories, not only from friends and relatives but also from hospital personnel and blogs and other online resources. I still can’t conceptualize going into real labor, knowing that “hey this is it,” heading off to the hospital and spending who knows how many hours in pain and discomfort before producing a living, breathing human being from between my legs.
Does. not. compute.
I know it has to happen.
I want it to happen.
I’m trying not to crawl out of my skin with the anticipation of it happening.
But it still doesn’t all seem completely real because it hasn’t happened yet.
And until it does, I guess I’ll be here, waiting, getting my check ups, visiting with my parents, reading voraciously in the interims (it’s one of the few things that makes the time pass and gets my mind off of obsessing over all this stuff), and trying not to freak out that he’s not here yet and all I want in this world right now (besides that corned beef sandwich) is to finally have this baby.