39, make that 40 weeks

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?

I have things to show you, but I'm lazy

Soon I will show you the results of all the nesty business I've been up to. Like the freezer brimming with food and the nursery in all its completed glory. But for now I am feeling lazy and worn out and oh generally 39 WEEKS PREGNANT and I don't feel like getting the camera.

Why all the talk about plushies?

Since we've finally caught up on Lost, we have time to watch other tv shows. So imagine my surprise when we played the episode of House from three weeks ago and that curmudgeonly doctor was talking about Plushies! Wow, Tina Fey, you totally got scooped.

I think the real question here is, what is going on in the world that Plushies are on the collective subconscious? And then the next question is, why has this turned into a plushy blog?

Nothing left to do but wait...

See that? That's Husband busy indulging my every nesting whim. I just couldn't sleep knowing that there was dirt under the living room rug. It was a nice touch on his part to vacuum IN BETWEEN the pad and the rug - I just wanted him to get around the edges, really.

That Husband, I tell ya. What a saint. He only rolled his eyes at me once or twice this weekend, and I think the orders I had barked were ridiculous enough to deserve it even. Maybe.

We moved the bassinet into our bedroom. That's kind of a weird feeling. Of course now that it's in the bedroom, the cats have become thoroughly fascinated with it. I am hoping to resolve this problem thusly:

See that ugly doll Ugly Doll in there? That was Husband's first stuffed animal purchase specifically for his daughter.  Oh it made my heart grow three sizes when he picked that out. I'll have you know that instead of "stuffed animal" at first I typed "plushy," and then realized that plushy has an alternate meaning. Damn, this parenthood business is just a minefield of potential CPS questioning!

Welcome

I'm getting pretty well moved in to the new/old digs here.

I wanted to move blogs because I felt a little too limited by the baby pork chop thing. First of all, I haven't thought of the baby as Pork Chop for several months now - the hazard I guess of deciding on her (secret) real name. Plus, I realized that it was short sighted of me to name and base the blog after the temporary name for my fetus - seeing as time marches on and she'll be a real human being soon. And, God willing, I will not be pregnant all the time.

Plus, this blog is named after ME. And really it's all about ME, right? Even when it's about somebody or something else? I'm just trying to do what Oprah says and carve out a space for ME instead of making it all about my kid or my husband or whatever.

Oh and by the way

You have probably noticed that I'm messing with the format again. Please bear with me, all two of you.

9cm to go

Good news from the doctor yesterday. I'm a centimeter dilated! Which means nothing. But it gives me some hope to cling to. Now if only I had some sign that this cold might end soon, too...