Really -- it would be great fun to share this birthday with her, since it's a really fun birthday to have. Everyone's already celebrating, there are plenty of bbqs and parties and fireworks and good times to be had. Plus people tend to remember the date. Fun all around!
But, well, that's not going to be the case.
We went to the hospital yesterday for our routine check-up, and discussed our options with the doctor. He was all ready to start inducing us (4th of July baby!?)... until he saw the ultrasound. Not only has my cervix not budged from its high-and-tight position, but the baby hasn't even, uh, dropped. She's in the right position and she's close, but there's a big ole' gap between her head and my cervix.
For those of you with more than a passing interest in the mechanics of this, the "gap" means that even if they gave me drugs to ripen my cervix and/or start contractions, this wouldn't necessarily do anything. Except make me miserable. (And until she's where she needs to be, it seems no matter of home remedies is going to spark labor. It's almost like there's nothing to spark yet. Which is crazy, but there you go.)
So the doctor said we could try that. He said we could monitor my drug-induced crampy-contractions for four hours while the baby potentially stays exactly where she is -- which, hoo boy, sounds like fun! -- or we could wait.
We opted for "wait."
Let me state for the record: I am not opposed to inducing labor, I just don't want to until we have to.
But here we are, 9 days late. And if I don't go into magical, turn-on-a-dime labor by Monday, we go back to the doctor (and back to the hospital) Monday afternoon. And that, I believe, is when we reach "have to."
In the meantime, you should be happy to know I am doing what little I can to shake Peanut loose.
Yesterday, our friends Ben and Emily decided to come up to visit us, figuring they'd either help look after our house while we were at the hospital, or keep us company while we continued our waiting game.
At some point, we got the notion to start listening to records (yes, records), and that resulted in me deciding I should dance. Not, you know, a LOT. But I needed to get up and sway. And what better song to sway to than "The Lonely Goatherd" from The Sound of Music? NONE!
So if you will, please picture Ish sitting on a chair, watching as Emily (who is 16 weeks pregnant herself) and I and my eeeeenormous belly dance our version of The Preggo Shuffle to The Lonely Goatherd. It involved a lot of step-touching, arm-waving ridiculousness, and actually felt pretty good.
Sort of like this:
By the time we finished the rousing last bars of "Odl lay odl lay odl lay!" I was exhausted. Em was collapsed on the floor in a heap of giggles.
Ish just looked at the two of us and said, "That was the worst lap dance ever."