In less than 3 hours, I will be officially 40 weeks pregnant, with nothing but an even bigger bump to show for it.
I blame my silly hubby for getting my hopes up and having all of these bogus theories about me going into labor at 38 weeks or some such nonsense. He has predicted numerous days to be the day our child greets the world. But, so far, baby Ezra hasn't liked any of those options.
My measurements have been the same for the past two weeks. 1 cm dilated, 70% effaced, and the baby's head at -1 station. The doctors seem to think that those numbers are magical and that I could go into labor at any moment. I usually leave their office feeling a bit less optimistic than all of that.
The weeks are getting increasingly hard. My energy is depleting more each day and so is my patience. I'm not, what most people would describe as, stressed-- just anxious. Anxious to see what my body can really do as far as labor and delivery, anxious to hold my baby and look at his face for the first time (a face that is, for now, a mystery to me), and have his little tiny fingers wrapped around just one of mine. Not to mention the look on Jon's face when he see's it all happen. Having gone through the whole emergency c-section, terrifying newborn health situation, and then having a 6.5 year old who is basically a grown up compared to changing a poopy, size 1 diaper... It's gonna be a completely new experience.
I'm getting tired of people calling me every day to ask if I'm "STILL pregnant" or say, "Haven't you had that baby yet?!" Especially when most of them are family members that would be informed the moment something happened. Most people are also convinced that because DH is so tall (6'2") and weighed 10 lbs, 6oz at birth, that our child is going to be a mammoth. I hear numerous times a week about how humongous our child is going to be. Or how late.
Even when I went shopping the other day, the lady checking my items at Victoria's Secret seemed to be an EXPERT in the fact that most 1st babies are late. While it's true that 70% of all babies are born after their due date, I don't need reminded of that every five seconds!
What's really funny is, after all of the talking THEY do they say, "Well, don't be too worried or stressed out. The baby will come when it's ready." REALLY? I didn't have a clue. -_-
If maybe, just maybe, I could get away from all that talking I would be completely fine with my baby boy waiting this thing out and letting me know whenever he is ready to make his grand entrance. And I'm sure with all the pain I'm in now, a grand entrance it will be!
Between all that and DH's mom & dad in town and wanting to come over all the time, and the awkward relationship (or lack thereof) that I already have with his sister-in-law heading into uncharted waters, I'm just a little sleep deprived, tense, and moody. Jon has literally been such a doll and told me to complain as much as I wanted. Poor thing-- I don't think he understood what that meant. Haha. He is basically my life coach right now and I don't know what I'd do without him.
So, with my due date tomorrow, I'm just sitting here drinking in the fact that hubs is cleaning the kitchen for me and my whole house smells like french vanilla creamer, and wondering- Where is Baby McConnell?