Hmm... I guess with two already on the ground, and one on the way, that is no way to address a letter. To be more specific: Dear Stubborn-Ass Unborn Child. That's right, Baby Ford #3, I'm talking to you! You are my third (and final!) child. You are supposed to be laid back, easy going, and listen to every single word I say. You are not supposed to be difficult, stubborn, or even the least bit competitive. Yet, I am very afraid that is what is happening...
I am, apparently, a baby-making perfectionist. My lovely first child was 11 days late. Due on the 11th of January, born on the 22nd. My beautiful second child was 9 days late. Due on the 11th of July, born on the 20th. My third handsome baby is also due on the 11th... born on the... well, that remains to be seen. Ideally, I was aiming for right around the 11th. Or maybe even earlier! My ideals are being tested.
I went for my 37-week check-up last week. My family doctor was very excited to examine me, since by that stage in pregnancy, her patients have all been shipped off to obstetricians. She very eagerly wanted to check my "progress" since I was 37 weeks with my third child and his head was "oh, so low!" She was pretty convinced she was going to tell me I was 3 cms dilated, or some other "the time is coming soon" sort of news. She let out a little "hmmpph," and said, "well, he's not nearly as low as I thought, and you haven't thinned or dilated even a milimetre!" Oh well, still lots of time!
Fast forward a week, to today. I'm back to see my regular obstetrician who gives the bottom of my belly a squeeze to make sure that baby is still head down. He is. Then doctor gives a little laugh, and says, "wow, for 38 weeks, he sure isn't very low, is he?" Yeah, I get it. The fact that I have had to literally push tiny little feet out from under my rib cage, and push back when his little bum starts to wiggle high enough that my boobs fit nicely under my chin, has led me to the conclusion that this stubborn-ass little child is quite content to wiggle and squirm as high as possible in my tummy. Unfortunately, without the "bowling ball about to fall out of your vajayjay" pressure that comes when a baby decides to settle in for the last week or so, not much progress will be made in the thinning and dilation departments. My ribs, however, will never be the same again, and the extremely attractive belching that comes when your food only has a few centimetres to travel before it stops, will continue. Hooray!
Of course, as Danny reminded me on the phone today as I was cursing out our little unborn human, anything is possible. This stubborn-ass little man may also decide to be spontaneous, and decide it's time to be born tonight. However, with a history of stubborn-assness running in my children's genes, I am not hopeful.
The bright side... more time to get ready. Except that I've been off work for 10 weeks, and am actually quite close to being ready (especially since my mommy arrives tonight and plans to finish up the last of the crap that I am to exhausted to do myself). I should pack a bag, of course, and maybe buy some diapers (I've been enjoying our diaper-free house), but that's all stuff that can be done at the last second, anyway!
There's also the other bright side. Potentially 3 more weeks of "wow, you're huge, when are you due?" and "looks like baby has really dropped!" and "aren't you ready to have that baby now?" The answers to those questions, socially speaking, are *smile* "any day now," "he sure has!" and "uh-huh, am I ever!!" The answers to those questions in my hormone-filled, sleep-lacking, baby-has-his-feet-in-my-ribs-again, oh my God when will this be over, mind, are "I'm not that freaking huge, I'm smaller than my last two, but thank you very much for pointing out my waddle," and "apparently this baby has not dropped, but I'm so glad you're an expert on the distance between this child's head and my vagina," and "Yes, I'm freaking ready. I've been ready ever since I stopped being able to put on my own socks, eat a full meal, or sleep through the night. Except that this stubborn-ass child didn't get that freaking message and is taking his sweet ass time!"
Of course, on the other other bright side... once this sweet little man does decide to make his entrance, there's no going back. We will officially be parents to three. So what's an extra week or two of waiting? Patience, after all, is a virtue! :)
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