After a somewhat excruciating night dealing with contractions, we were thrilled to go to the doctor this morning for our 41-week check up. I was positive that I was dilated to at least 3 centimeters and that this baby was going to be here any second. The monitors, however, tell a different story. First of all, the baby is doing great. She's on pace to be about 9lbs and she's still swimming in plenty of fluid, so it's nice to know that those 200 ounces of fluid are doing us all some good. The "contractions" that kept me up until 3:00 a.m., however, weren't quite doing the work I thought that they were doing. I am not dilated one bit. Not so much as a centimeter. I was shocked. The doctor says that the contractions I am feeling are doing the work of effacing my cervix, which apparently is going to take about 100 more years.
The Plan. The doctor said we were going to stick with the plan. Since I was a little foggy on the plan, I asked for clarity. The plan is that Thursday night I will leave my house around 11:45 p.m. and head to the hospital where I will check in for an induction to begin early Friday morning. As in, just after midnight. I was shocked to see the timing of all of this. Midnight? What is this, a cervical heist? Should I wear all black and a stocking mask? Something about going off to the hospital in the dead of night sounds mysterious and almost sinister. Almost as sinister as that damn balloon catheter that came back up today in our conversation about what would happen on Friday. Basically, that little balloon will be in my body for about 6 hours, so hopefully they can start the induction after that. It all sounds terribly scientific and complicated, so I will just focus on the fact that our baby is coming on Friday or Saturday at the very latest.
Seems like I have been saying that forever.
It was good to hear that the baby is doing well and to delve further into the world of childbirth which only confirm what we already suspected: everything takes about 4 times longer than you think and nothing happens quickly when it comes to birthing bambinos. What can you do but surrender any notion that you will be in charge or that you will know what is going to happen?
Jeff and I started something VERY COOL with the aid of his trusty iPhone. There is an audio feature that allows us to make audio memos. We started chronicling our delivery journey today and it's been fun. We're telling Pepps how we feel about her arrival and how she may be coming into the world. I am not a techie person, but that iPhone is one seriously overproductive little gadget.
So, now the true and final countdown begins. In about 48 hours I will be close to checking in to the hospital for the induction. Everytime they mention that balloon catheter I think of the song "Send In the Clowns," which I am sure the very capable resident will enjoy hearing when she/he tries to do this procedure in my most intimate region.
We are exhausted. We need to spend the next 48 hours resting and sleeping and drooling and conserving our energy. I see lots of couch time in the next 2 days punctuated by lots of freaking out and feelings. It's good. We can see the light at the end of this very happy pregnancy.
So close now.
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