Wonderful Day For A Walk

For 9 months we have been waiting for this day: July 14, 2009. Bastille Day. Our expected due date. I barely slept a wink last night. And, then, like many first-time parents we learned that the expected due date doesn't mean sh*t. We showed up at the doctor's office today at 8:30 a.m. and my cervix hasn't budged since last week, though she threw us a bone and noted that my cervix "wants to open." I have no idea what that means, but the bottom line is that I am not dilated and there is no little baby bouncing on my knee.

Yet.

So, in the spirit of flexibility and celebration for what is still coming, we took a little walk on the lake today and enjoyed the unseasonably mild weather and the opportunity to take yet more pictures of my belly. It took about a mile to process what we learned at the doctor's office. She told us that we could schedule an ultra sound for next Tuesday, a full SEVEN days from now, to check the baby's stress level and the amount of fluid. She noted that we should come next Tuesday (assuming that I do not go into labor before then) with our bags packed, just in case she orders us to the hospital if the baby seems to be no longer thriving.

It's all totally surreal. I always knew it was a possibility that Pepps would come after her due date. That's true of over 50% of first time moms. I also knew that I would feel pride that my daughter likes hanging out in my quarters. But, I didn't expect how much more anxious I would feel as the days start to drag on. The afternoons seems sort of long, and we are hesitant to plan much because (1) we thought we'd have a little baby to tend to and (2) who knows how my energy level will be.

It feels good to be totally ready. We can't come up with any errands we need to run or anything we need to buy or fix or make before she comes. We are truly in the waiting game. We have made plans for Friday night. I am starting to think about what I would like to do for the weekend. I am forced to see beyond July 14, which I had barely considered at all once we knew that was our due date. So, until we get some indicia of labor, such as contractions or water breaking or some of the less appetizing ones, I will prance around just as proud as can be for carrying my Peppermint for 40 PLUS weeks. If that doesn't get me some street cred, I don't know what I ever do that will.