Today I am 38w3d, and the baby will receive his eviction notice on Monday, the 24th, at 7:30 a.m. at 39w1d. I'm going to be induced, and as my doctor says, "have a baby by lunchtime." We'll see about that. The past three weeks have been a whirlwind -- we finally finished the baby's room (never try to use dark paint on walls when you have a popcorn ceiling that prohibits a straight edge), got him some clothes of his own, borrowed the swing and bouncy seat and packed my hospital bag. Tomorrow is my last day of work.
I've been dilated and effaced since week 36, so we had a bit of a panic that he was going to come quicker than we anticipated. I've heard every story in the book about how women can walk around dilated to 3 cm for weeks before giving birth, but when it's you, it's different. You feel like you have days, minutes, not weeks. And I have been very nervous about who was going to stay with Maura, how that would all be arranged if I went into labor in the middle of the night, etc. etc. My mom is coming on Friday night to be here to watch Maura, and I feel finally at ease that things will be taken care of without the chaos of a middle-of-the-night labor.
I've had lots of Braxton Hicks contractions, and a few regular ones, but nothing consistent or painful enough to be real labor. That's what's dilating me more, so I'm at least pleased that my body is making progress. The baby is very, very low (my doctor was actually feeling his head during my exam a few weeks ago) and that's more freaky than anything else. He gets angry when I have the contractions, and it feels like he's so low he's going to crawl himself out.
And as you can see from my belly:
He's big. Plenty big. Close to 8 lbs. by this point. Right in the 50th percentile. I was never this pregnant or this big with Maura (she as born at 38 weeks) so sleep is nearly impossible and I have one dress that fits. I have no idea how I've only managed to gain 16 lbs. I think I've eaten my weight in Dunkin Donuts coffee rolls the past few weeks. I guess it's because I really can't sit around like I did when I was pregnant with Maura -- I've got her to take care of and work to do, and weekends are for errands and visits and play, not rest.
And my little 3rd percentile babe?
She doesn't know what's going to hit her. I'm sure all parents feel this way on their second baby, but I do feel genuinely terrible that there's really no way for her to comprehend the situation she's about to be in, no matter how much we talk about it. At 21 months, she's just too young. My only consolation is that she is not going to remember any of this, and that in essence, although we'll have a baby around, to her it will feel like she has more time with me since I'm usually at work all day and see her so few hours in the evening (less than 2 on most days). And since I can't nurse, it's not as if I'm tethered to the baby and can't at any point put him down if she needs me. And she and Jay are so close, and that won't change. I'm sure we're going to see some regression, some whining and crying and unhappiness. But I'm not one to borrow trouble, and I'm just going to behave as though it's all normal and not make a huge deal of it. Because frankly, there's not much I can do about it. He's going to be here on Monday at the latest and will be in her life forever from that point forward. And this is what we wanted, for her to know and love a sibling that was close to her age.
I won't make any promises, but I hope to post soon after his birth. I have the emails for all three of you who read this, and of course we'll update facebook.
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