Nine months. 39 weeks. 274 days. I never thought I'd make it this long in this pregnancy.
But here I still sit. Even after the other night when I sat in bed clocking strong contractions every 7 minutes for more than an hour. In a normal world, that would be what we in the business call going into labor. But not for me. I was stunned when I woke up the next morning, still pregnant after a sound night's sleep.
I've had 9- and 10-pound babies and it's not something I'd like to repeat. This girl is plenty big and it's time for her to come out.
Fortunately, I now have an escape plan. Tonight, my mother arrives. When I told Mark she had bought her plane tickets, he literally jumped with joy. He made bugling noises and cried "The cavalry's coming!" I think he's worn out from doing double duty around here. So no more contingency plans for which kids will do what and go where if we go to the hospital when.
We've been discussing contingency plans for so long that now the kids look at me in the morning and say, "You're still pregnant?" When I say, "See you after school!" they say, "If you're still here." They make it sound like there's an imminent coup against a dictatorial leader. I guess compared to my haphazard performance of late, putting the household in my mother's capable and loving hands will feel to them like the fresh breeze of democracy.
If I don't go into labor over the weekend, I'm scheduled to be induced on Monday. I don't really want to be induced. I don't believe in inducing and I know inducing leads to more painful labors and a greater chance of a c-section. But my doctor has three related concerns that an induction would address, and she seems to have a relatively low-intervention plan in mind. And, if I haven't already mentioned, this baby needs to be born!