Today I am 39 weeks and 5 days pregnant (as you can tell from the ticker in my title bar above). Yes, I am aware - painfully so these days - that pregnancy is supposed to last 40 weeks. My due date, which is December 9th aka Wednesday, is exactly 40 weeks from the official start of my pregnancy, which was March 4th. Therefore, I shouldn't expect that the baby will arrive before Wednesday, right?
Well, technically, that's correct. I shouldn't expect to see the baby before Wednesday. But I would really like to see her before then. Mostly because I've spent the better part of the last week and a half either a) dealing with pre-labor symptoms and pains that never last more than a few hours at a stretch or b) trying every trick in the book to get labor to start and keep going. Nothing has happened. The closer we get to Christmas, the more desperate I get to have this kiddo appear sooner rather than later.
I am "on call" for an induction on Wednesday. The hospital where I will deliver only does inductions for first-time moms on that day of the week, so it's either I clear the on-call list this Wednesday or I have to wait until next Wednesday. Sure, I guess I could go into real labor on my own prior to the 16th, but I'm rapidly losing faith in my body here. I don't think it knows what to do. Maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic, but the more start-and-stop labor I experience, the less confidence I have that I can avoid an induction - whether it be this week or next.
Anyway, this "poor me" post is the replacement for a Musings post this week. I can't really focus on much beyond my frustration right now. Blech.
1 comment:
Just make sure Baby Jermajesty doesn't steal your birthday. That's all I ask.
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