This is going to be…scattered.  I’ve been putting off posting because I didn’t feel any of these entries were worthy of a post to themselves, but I think altogether they’ll be overwhelming. Oh well. I do want to record this, and the longer I procrastinate because I don’t have a perfectly-sized entry, the worse the problem will get.

I counted down how many weeks I have left at work today, and the absolute, medical-world-won’t-let-me-wait-any-longer-even-if-the-baby-will, upper limit is seven. Things have been accelerating. We took our hospital class.* My shower is this weekend.** My next midwife appointment in two weeks we go over the birth plan. The week after that the kid is officially considered full term.


While I’ve finally fully internalized the reality of being pregnant, I’m having trouble groking the concept that in under two months I will be done with this, and will have, in fact, produced a Real Person from (as my brother in law says) Inside of ME. Instead, I feel that that I will continue being pregnant rather indefinitely longer, and while a baby will definitely come about at some point, that point is still somewhere in the distant and foggy future – certainly not in seven weeks.

Some of this might be that all this prep is scheduled on the possibility that the kid comes at 37 weeks, maybe earlier. OTOH, M & I were both decidedly late. Him, ridiculously late. While I understand the reality that sometimes babies are early, if I deliver earlier than 41.5 weeks with my induction already scheduled, I will hardly believe the child is mine.

It helps, too, that I’m still relatively asymptomatic. Apart from not being able to reach my work badge with my opposite hand, and general non-bendy-ness, I feel fine. Sleeping has actually gotten easier recently. My midwife talked at my most recent appointment*** about how she would try to talk me out of an induction if I was 39 weeks and miserable. And (pride of the naive) I have a hard time picturing that from here. Everything has gone SO smoothly, it’s hard for me to imagine being miserable enough to want to risk**** that.

Similarly, my doula asked whether there was anything I wanted to be reminded of if I asked for drugs. I guess there’s a truism that every woman eventually asks for drugs, but (again, from my high horse of inexperience) I question whether I would. I don’t mean that I think I’m particularly iron-willed. I can EASILY see myself saying things like ‘I can’t do this’ ‘this isn’t working’ ‘just make it stop’ (or, like nessa, ‘NOTHING makes it feel better, you FUCK HEAD’) but, I’m not sure that ‘I would like narcotics’ would come to mind. There’s such a build up of not having people offer you drugs as well. Honestly, I feel that my reasons for not wanting interventions are solid and immediate and concrete enough that I would still be able to make a reasoned decision about them while in pain. I don’t think any of my caregivers are pill-pushers, and if one of them, in all their experiences, does think that some sort of drug would be helpful to me, I’d like to have that information.

This, I take it, is unusual.



*Not entirely worth it for people like me who did a lot of reading beforehand. Often the instructor would make a point, and I would think ‘yup, know that, also, you left out this or that nuance’. The instructor herself was really awesome though, and probably the easiest to talk to of anyone I’ve worked with in this pregnancy. That is saying a lot, too, as I’ve been super pleased with both my midwives and my doula. There was one other girl from my midwife practice in the class (strangely, they are also remodeling their house) and the two of us were the most involved participants with questions and the like. It’s scary to think that people are going into childbirth not even knowing the very basic information covered by that class. The tour and discussion of hospital policy were useful though, and it was good to have a day with M pulled away from other obligations to talk about babies. We had some useful conversations sparked by just thinking about that stuff in close proximity to each other for an extended period.

**though M’s grandmother made a comment to me recently that ‘we have to have a party for you after the baby – once we know how big it is and what you need’ Ummm…how about no? How about that’s what showers are for: so you own some things before you bring the kid home and don’t have to attend a party with an infant? I like M’s family, and they mean well, but they don’t seem to be in-sync with the sorts of etiquette that seem specifically designed to avoid awkwardness like this, i.e. RSVPs, or giving gifts before the baby comes instead of after. I imagine M’s & my parents and siblings will be quite enough socialization for me in the post-partum range without inviting the rest of the thanksgiving guest list.

***where I brought the cup into the bathroom and forgot to pee in it. Brilliant. That’s me.

****risk, in the sense of a higher chance of unpleasant interventions, like ivs and monitoring and caesarians with their associated unpleasant recovery.