Imagine my surprise when I went to my weekly doctor's appointment yesterday, and the nurse greeted me with a hearty "tomorrow's the day!" You see, I have been (not) laboring under the premise that my due date was next Thursday, the 27th. The due date based on certain information regarding my body and personal activities that I am privy to and my doctor is not.
Turns out that sort of specific information is considered useless by the medical profession, as they like to base things off of the more imprecise yet more easily computed Last Menstrual Period. So regardless of what sort of helpful information I could provide, my doctor spun her little wheel and wrote down the 22nd. And that is all that matters. My twenty week ultrasound put my due date at the 26th - which is only one day off from what I told her, you might notice - but because it's within some sort of statistical variance allowance, the 22nd rules.
Why do you care? You might be asking. Don't you want that baby out of you anyway? Isn't this good news? It is good news, I guess. I have fast-forwarded through the last week of pregnancy and now I'm really truly an ANY MOMENT NOW pregnant lady. The problem is that now we are 10 days away from getting induced rather than 15. If I have not delivered by next Friday, the doctor is going to schedule me for an induction after the holiday weekend. So now you're all, who cares? What's the big deal about getting induced? Right?
The big deal is that getting induced makes taking the drugs and getting the epidural way more likely. It makes getting a C-section way more likely. All along I have had "get induced" at the top of my "things to be avoided" list. So now I guess my focus has to be on releasing whatever fear I'm holding onto and convincing this baby that she will be much, much more comfortable on the outside.
Is it wrong to visualize myself with a baby in one arm and a glass of wine in the other? Whatever works, right?