Keeping Busy

So, our little bundle of joy (OLBOJ) is technically due tomorrow. HOWEVER, I doubt he's going to be here before the end of next week. I'm just lucky that way.

We had another sonogram last Friday and, according to their measurements, OLBOJ isn't all that little. In fact, they're estimating him to be a whopping 9 pounds 2 ounces.

Yes, this scares the ever-loving beejeebus out of me. Yes, I know that sonograms aren't entirely accurate.

So, after the appointment I did what I normally do, which is call everyone who has asked to be updated about OLBOJ. While I was talking to my father, he mentioned that he was born at 9 pounds 11 ounces.

WHAT???

I have a whole new realm of respect for my late grandmother. That is a big ass baby.

Otherwise, OLBOJ is healthy, and quite content to stay in the climate-controlled environment of my uterus.

There was a bright spot to the appointment: I am 1 cm dilated. That's more than the previous week, but still not exactly huge progress.

To distract me from my lack of cervical progress, I've been knitting. In fact, I've finished a few things!

Our not-so-little one's baby blanket (rav link)


A sweet baby cap (rav link)


A pair of socks I started during our trip to Chicago last year (rav link)


And a pair of baby booties and a pair of baby socks.

I guess I should get back to knitting. Maybe something will happen?

Still Pregnant

Tomorrow we are at 39 weeks.

I feel like I have been pregnant forever.

The end.

Patiently Awaiting

I probably don't say this often enough, but I am very lucky to have tremendously talented friends. They run the gamut from analysts, to scientists, to painters, to furniture makers, to therapists, to sculptors, to writers, editors, and photographers.

I am also lucky to be able to take advantage of their talents from time to time. In the most recent case, the lovely Emily Stoker offered her talents to help us capture the last few moments before we meet our son. If you are in need of a portrait photographer in the Dallas area, I cannot recommend Emily more highly. She's easy-going, professional, and open to ideas. And wow, is she talented!









View the whole Flickr set here.

No One Looks Good in a Hospital Gown

Since we started going to our obstetrician, the appointments have always been a little nerve-wracking. You never really know what's going to happen, but the routine is at least predictable.

Sign in, wait for the nurse to call you back, get weighed (eek!), pee in a cup, get your blood pressure taken, and head to the waiting room for God-knows-how-long until the doctor can see you.

Usually, to pass the time in the waiting room and then the second waiting room (also known as the exam room, however I spend a good 5/6 of my time in there waiting, not being examined), I knit on a blanket for my little guy. It's just soothing garter stitch. Knit, knit, knit, and turn.

When the doctor comes in, we quickly chat, talk about how I'm feeling, and then she measures me. After that, she uses a little doppler heart monitor to get the baby's heart rate.

Usually, this takes five seconds. Yesterday, after the most excruciating minute of my life, we couldn't get an accurate reading on the monitor. The doctor said that, perhaps the monitor was picking up my heart rate, but it was showing about 140 beats and then would waver to 80-some-odd beats. Dips like that, the doctor said, could be signs of fetal distress.

This is where I promptly freaked out.

So, just as a precaution, I was sent down to the Labor and Delivery triage area and on to the Maternity Observation ward, where I had to go through the VERY EXACT THING I DID NOT WANT TO GO THROUGH: I was strapped to a fetal monitor for three-plus hours.

It was agony in more ways than one: First, while I'm laying there, scared shitless an unable to see the monitor, all Dave could do was stare at the monitor. This is why I want the very bare minimum of fetal monitoring during labor. I'm having the baby, and my emotional well-being and ability to move around and get comfortable and be supported is just as important. It's what'll help the baby get out faster, and who doesn't want that?

When the nurse returned, I begged her to tell me what was going on.

"Everything looks fine," she said. The baby had a stable heart rate, and I was having very, very mild contractions, or Braxton-Hicks contractions.

We filled out a shit ton of paperwork and then remained hooked up to the infernal monitor for another three hours. Then an OB resident came in to do a brief ultrasound to check our fluid levels (which makes this sound like I'm a car in the garage for a tune-up). There was very little change, which was good.

And then we left. After all that emotional crap, after crying and freaking out, we just left. Everything was normal. We were fine. The baby is fine.

And now, more than ever I am so ready to have this baby. Hopefully he'll be ready soon, too. Real soon.