A Crying Shame

Today I had my 39 week appointment. My doctor told me a couple of weeks ago that if I was ready at 39 weeks, she'd scrape my membranes and give me a 50% chance of going into labor while she's on call (I love my doctor. I don't want some stranger pulling out my kid.). Oh such false hope was built into me! Built into this very day! I should have known better.

She found my baby's heart with the doppler and did a little dance to the beat. His heart makes me want to dance, too, but I'm afraid I just might fall if I tried. She measured my grossly distended belly and declared his growth to be perfect. She felt around my baby's shape and said he'd probably be seven lbs and some change. And then she did my internal exam. And I am still 1 cm, although it is an "easy" 1 cm now. Two weeks ago I guess it was a difficult 1 cm. And my cervix has moved farther down still and is easier to reach. "Next week, you'll have this baby," she said. I will not lie to you. I cried. I tried not to, but I did. I really want to have this baby right now. *sigh* My doctor is so nice. She gave me some tissues and kind, sympathetic words. "You've fought so hard to get to where you are, and now you just have to fight just a little bit more. This part of your baby's life is such a short time." And she also told me to get more sleep. I must be looking extra haggard today because the nurse also asked me how I was sleeping. The answer is: not very well. I toss and turn a lot (with Herculean effort these days) and wake up with hip pain often, not to mention the several times a night I pull my whale body out of bed to go pee.

Pregnancy has not treated me badly in comparison to what it could be. However, I have yet to meet anyone who enjoys these last few weeks. My bones feel like they're going to fall apart. The weight of my baby pulls down on my stomach and makes me ache when I walk. My back begins to explode in angry furor after standing and making dinner (or cleaning or whatever else I do while standing) for only ten minutes. Making apple pie filling is difficult because of this. By the way, Mom, I'm going to enlist your help in making apple pie filling before all my apples go bad. I'll pay you with a baby (but you don't get to take him home... sorry).

I've prayed about it, and I've thought about it, and I've decided I just can't be butthurt about my baby taking the time he needs to get ready for his grand entrance into the world. This time is very hard, but I have to do it anyway; I may as well be optimistic and more cheerful. On the bright side, I still have time to finish the sweater I'm making. All I have to do is sew up the sides and attach the little collar. I'm getting a little better at staying on task with my knitting. I've only been working on this sweater for about three weeks and it's just about done. Now I just have to start on all those receiving blankets...