Adventures in breastfeeding...

...or, My new life as a dairy cow.

I had no idea that something that female mammals have been doing since God created the world would be so frickin' difficult.

Nine days after my c section, my milk still has not "come in". I am a mixture of frustrated, annoyed, and emotionally drained by all this.

While I was still in the birth center, a lactation consultant came and talked to me about feeding. The nurses had given me a plastic breast shield to help draw out my nipples, but that first consultant recommended I not use it. She said it made for "lazy nursing" on the baby's part. She told me to use sugar water or drips of formula on my nipple to keep Brendan's attention during nursing, and gave me advice on helping him latch on. Later that same day, a second, different consultant came by to see how things were going. I told her Brendan was having difficulty latching on without the shield. She said she thought I should go ahead and use the shield if it helped. She told me that once Brendan got the hang of feeding I could start "weaning" him off the shield.

I had expressed to both consultants that I was concerned that I wasn't producing any milk. At no point during my pregnancy did I ever notice any colostrum or anything. My breasts did go through changes during the pregnancy: they got very sore and sensitive, and definitely increased in size (like I needed that). Both consultants assured me that, while I might not see anything, I surely was producing colostrum, and that newborns don't need much because they still are running off the nutrition they had gotten from momma prior to birth, and that my milk would "come in" soon. Since these were the knowledgeable professionals, I did what they told me to do.

After the first few feedings, we noticed (and the nurses concurred) that Brendan got positively frantic during feedings. One of the nurses compared his attempts to latch with a dog with a chew toy. He cried, he rooted, he flailed. Several of the nurses agreed with us that he still seemed hungry after our attempted feedings, and they suggested that I supplement with formula until my supply increased.

The first night home was a disaster. Of course we were all exhausted just trying to get into a routine, but Brendan couldn't seem to breastfeed at all, and we resorted to full bottles of formula out of desperation. We went back in that next day to talk to the lactation consultant again. She spent a whole hour working with us on all the technicalities of feeding (how to hold the baby, helping him latch, etc.). She told us again to use drips of formula on my nipples to "prime the pump" and encourage him to keep feeding. She gave us a little eye dropper to use and sent us on our way. She again sort of "pooh-poohed" my concerns about my supply, and told us not to supplement with formula.

We went home and tried to stick with the plan the lactation consultant had laid out for us. But after much screaming, flailing, rooting, hand-chewing, and a great deal of crying on both our parts, I broke down and gave Brendan a bottle of formula in the middle of the night. He just seemed so HUNGRY.

The next day we had our first checkup with the pediatrician (Brendan was now four days old). To our horror, Brendan had lost almost a full pound from his birth weight (born at 8 lbs, now down to 7 lbs 1 oz). The pediatrician was extremely concerned; she said that weight loss of more than 10% could be cause to admit him to the hospital. They did a heel stick to check his bilirubin, which thankfully was in the normal limits so they didn't admit him to the hospital. But the pediatrician finally listened to my concerns about my supply. She sent us home with instructions to try to breastfeed him for as long as he'd tolerate on each side, then get on my breastpump and see what I could pump while my husband gave Brendan a couple ounces of formula. Anything I could pump would then be given in a bottle during the next feeding (after the breastfeeding and before the formula). She told us to come back the next day.

Definitely a complicated feeding plan. But I was incredibly relieved, when I got on the pump for the first time, to see that I indeed was producing something. I managed to pump a tiny bit of colostrum, only about half an ounce, but it really was there. I was so relieved, in fact, that I burst into tears. I had just been devastated by the idea that I was not able to take care of my baby's needs. So we went back to the pediatrician the next day and reported what had happened. Just with our formula supplementation, Brendan's weight was back up to 7 lbs 9 oz, after only one day. Poor baby had obviously been super dehydrated. Just in those 24 hours he produced more wet diapers than he had the entire rest of his life. How sad is that?

The pediatrician had been doing a little research. She said that hypertensive mothers (I've been treated for high blood pressure for probably seven or eight years now) often have a delay in their milk coming in. Also, women who had a c section tend to be delayed. And since I had so many anti-diuretic meds during the course of my labor and c-section, I am having major fluid retention issues (my legs, ankles, and feet are horrifically swollen), which probably is also affecting my milk production. She told us to continue our feeding routine--the pump would help Brendan access my milk regardless of how well he was latching, and it would help stimulate my milk production. She said she felt confident that we were still within the window of opportunity for me to be able to breastfeed.

So feeding has been a two-person job. While I start Brendan out on breast, my husband warms up the previous pump-job's bottle of breast milk and then mixes up the bottle of formula. When I'm done, I hand Brendan over to him and get on the pump. I still have not pumped more than an ounce total at one time, but the quality of the milk has changed (not colostrum any more; thinner and whiter), and Brendan is spending more time on each breast which means he's probably getting more from me than he was.

But everyone keeps talking about milk "coming in", and breasts getting engorged, and "letting down" and all that, and it just isn't happening for me. I would really like to be able to stop worrying about the formula (and the pumping--holy crap that thing hurts!) and just breastfeed. I'll be happy to pump enough for my husband to do some feedings himself, but this whole "pump every two hours" thing is exhausting and painful. It takes over an hour to complete the feeding process, and when we're feeding every two hours, it seems like my entire life is spent either breastfeeding or pumping. I'm tired.

Did anyone else have any problems similar to this? Do you think my milk will ever show up, or am I going to be doomed to keep up this stupid feeding schedule forever? I'm just super discouraged.

Rumors of my demise have been greatly appreciated

So. Significant changes to this blog. Once upon a time, it started as "Diary of a Mother-to-be-to-be", following my preparations to eventually become pregnant. It was all about weight loss and other things that needed to be done prior to my becoming a parent. Then, it became "Diary of a Mother-to-be", once I did actually become pregnant. It followed my physical and emotional changes as I went through nine months of fun and frolic.

And now, it undergoes yet another change, as I AM NOW A MOTHER. I am now the proud owner of a bouncing baby boy named Brendan, 8 lbs, 22 inches long, born at 8:13 am on Saturday, October 23.

Just last Thursday I was wondering about the signs of labor and whether or not I would actually know when I was starting labor. I mean, you hear all the time about women who end up giving birth in bathrooms and backseats because they didn't know they were in labor until they were in the later stages. I spent part of that afternoon wondering about that, because I was having intermittent lower back and lower abdominal pain throughout the afternoon. They were minor pains, so I really didn't give them much thought other than to wonder if they were somehow related to early signs of labor.

But it wasn't until later that evening that it occurred to both myself and my husband that these pains might indeed be early contractions. That realization coincided with the loss of my mucous plug. From that point (about 11 pm), we started keeping track of how frequent these contractions were and how long they were lasting. At that moment the contractions were 25-30 minutes apart, and only lasting about a minute. I employed my breathing techniques (thank you, birthing class) each time one rolled around. I was surprised to find that I did at least doze in between the contractions. I wouldn't have thought that was possible--I figured the excitement (and discomfort) would be enough to keep me awake.

By 6:30 Friday morning, I was starting to really feel the discomfort (not yet pain) of the contractions, and they were about 10 minutes apart. I called the Family Birth Center at the hospital and spoke with one of the charge nurses. She wanted me to wait to come in until I was having contractions about 2-3 minutes apart. I told her that my 39 week checkup was that same morning, so she recommended I go see my OB as planned and see what she said about my situation.

My OB did a cervical check and informed me that I was about 3 cm dilated and 60% effaced. She said she had sort of "broken through" a membrane on my cervix while doing my exam, and she figured that would probably jumpstart things. She thought I'd be at the birth center within 4-5 hours. She said she was the OB on call that evening, and that she'd see me then. This was the first time that a cervical check had produced any kind of progress in my condition, so I was pretty excited (and in a bit of pain).

I spent the middle part of Friday just hanging in there, packing our hospital bag and making sure everything was ready for the baby. The contractions were gradually increasing in strength and frequency, until they were about 2 1/2 minutes apart and about 1 1/2 minutes long. By about 3 or so in the afternoon I was pretty uncomfortable and ready for the hospital. I called the birth center and spoke to the nurse, and she said it was time to come on in. After making sure the dogs had been walked (since we didn't know when someone would be back at the house to take them out again), we loaded up two vehicles (my husband was driving me, and we were followed by his parents and my dad) and headed to the hospital.

After signing some paperwork, the nurses led me into a triage room, where they checked me once again. Between 4-5 cm this time. My OB came in and said they were definitely admitting me, and that things were looking good. They got me in my own room, got me on an IV with some pain medication, and we settled in to see how things progressed. Every hour or so someone would come in to check me again. 6 cm. My contractions were strong; they had me hooked up to monitors and my husband could see each contraction and talk me through it. I was hurting pretty bad and was pretty tired; after all, I'd been having contractions for about 24 hours. But each time they checked me, the result was the same: about 6 cm. I just wasn't getting past that.

Some time that evening, I requested an epidural. I was really hurting bad, the contractions were really strong and very close together, but since I wasn't making any progress with my cervix opening, I couldn't get out of transitional labor. I was pretty exhausted. The anesthesiologist came in and ran the line in my back for the epidural. I've gotta say, I should have gotten the epidural WAY before then. It was wonderful. I've read horror stories about people whose epidurals didn't work, or were so strong they couldn't push, or only numbed half their back, or whatever, but mine was fabulous. They started me on pitocin in my IV to get me past the 6 cm stage, but each time they checked me, I was still stalled out. They upped my pitocin dosage three different times, to no avail. I could tell how strong the contractions were because I could SEE them each time my belly tightened up, and we could see them on the monitor, but since I wasn't opening up there was just nothing I could do. The hours passed, my epidural started to wear off a bit, and I started to hurt again.

At 5 am on Saturday morning, my OB (who looked pretty worn out herself; they'd had a lot of babies that night) came in. She said, "I get the feeling you've had it; you're done. You just aren't progressing like you should be, and I can tell you are really tired. So I think we're going to do a c-section and get this baby out. There's no reason to prolong this any more than we already have." I was so relieved (and I'm sure my family was, too; in my preoccupation with my own situation I had pretty much forgotten that my in-laws and my dad had been holed up in the waiting room since Friday afternoon with only the occasional update). She said, "Well, within the hour we should have a baby for you!"

But within a few minutes, the nurses came in to tell me there would be yet another delay: another woman in labor was having complications, and they were going to do a c-section on her as well. They decided since she was having trouble and I wasn't (Brendan was never distressed or anything, and I was fine except for being tired and frustrated) that she would go first. The anesthesiologist came back in and gave me a second hit to my epidural; he said it would be a real bummer to be sitting there, waiting, and having painful contractions since my previous one was kind of wearing off. And then we waited. Again. Still.

Not sure how complicated this other woman's situation was, but it must have been a doozy, because they didn't come for me until about 7:30. They got me set up in the operating room, got my husband set up in his scrubs, and dosed me up good with more painkillers. Between those and the previous shot to my epidural site, I could barely keep my eyes open. They put the drape up across my chest so we couldn't see what was going on around my abdomen (for which my husband was thankful; he was worried about passing out, even during a regular delivery). And from that point, things went very quickly. It was probably only ten minutes or so from the first incision (not that I would know, since I couldn't really tell when the first incision was or anything like that) before they came around the corner of the drape to show off my son (who was a little gooey but otherwise pretty good-looking). He was lighter than previously estimated (only 8 lbs rather than 9+, which makes it seem unlikely that I had stalled out in my labor progress because "he wouldn't fit"), but he was long, 22 inches. They took him over to clean him up, take care of his cord, weigh him, measure him, and whatever else it is that they do, and my OB continued to do whatever it was she was doing down there.

It turns out that even if I had done a regular delivery, she might have had to go in, because my placenta was firmly attached to the top of my uterus, and she really had to work to get it delivered. It took much longer to get the placenta out than it did to get the baby out. But she did successfully get everything out and closed back up, and they got me back to my room. Brendan was right behind me, and I got to feed him for the first time (not that there was much feeding; he wasn't exactly hungry and I wasn't completely coherent, but still). And so we settled in. Nurses came in regularly to check on us, take vital signs, get me up on my feet (after the epidurals wore off, of course), get me cleaned up, and all those fun things. Brendan had a bunch of tests he had to go through (heel sticks and such), a circumcision to endure (the nurse asked if either my husband or I would like to go watch--she didn't even have the question out of her mouth when my husband said, "No, that's OK"), and get his hearing checked.

It was difficult to get much sleep either night we were in the birth center. The nurses kept coming in to check on the both of us. Of course Brendan didn't have any kind of routine either; he woke up when he felt like it. Since he wasn't eating much, it was hard to figure out how to soothe him. And neither my husband on the pullout sofa nor I on my slightly reclined hospital bed was particularly comfortable. We were happy on Monday evening to be discharged so we could come home and at least sleep in our own bed.

The days since we came home have been interesting, to say the least. I'm just glad my husband was given the week off so we could get the hang of things together, before he has to start getting up in the mornings to get to work. And I'm glad my in-laws have been here. My mother-in-law especially has been a huge blessing--she's cooking for us, filling our freezer for when she goes home, cleaning up the house, and watching the baby for us so we can go take an occasional badly needed nap. I'm glad my father got to be here to see his first grandchild. He seemed really excited about the whole thing. And I'm glad that, as long and exhausting as the birth process was, things went as smoothly as they did. My pregnancy was easy, my blood pressure and age never became issues, and a week after I had what amounts to major abdominal surgery, I'm healing pretty well (I just wish the swelling in my legs and feet would go down). If there's one thing I would change about this whole thing, it would be to have my mom here. Especially since all this took place over what would have been her 67th birthday, her presence was sorely missed. I know she was looking down on us and was with me the whole time, but I sure wish I could have been able to put him in her arms and see her face looking down at his.

Another year older and still pregant

Well, I do not have to worry about sharing my birthday with my child, I guess. Turned 36 yesterday, and still no sign of labor. Of course I don't yet know if the pineapple I ate the other day has had any effect (I did get some more at the store today, just in case); I won't know until I get to the doctor tomorrow morning for my checkup. I still have lots of pelvic pressure and discomfort, and I have occasional lower abdominal discomfort, almost like menstrual cramps, and some lower back pain, but none of it seems to fall into the pattern of contractions or even early signs of labor. There has been some hope that perhaps I might have the baby tomorrow (which would have been my mother's birthday), but as today progresses I have to assume that possibility is getting less and less likely. My sister-in-law hopes I'll have him on Monday, which is her birthday. I'm just hoping he decides to show up while my dad is in town, which is until the 26th. But I'd just like him to show up, period. I'm tired of being pregnant. *sigh*

The (pine)apple of my eye

39 weeks 2 days. I'm eager to get this party started. Nothing seems to be happening, so I thought I'd try a little experiment.

I've read a variety of "self-inducing" stories where women have consumed certain foods/drinks that have caused them (supposedly) to go into labor. Most of these (castor oil, black tea and sauerkraut) don't sound very pleasant. But I've read in several places that fresh pineapple has some kind of enzyme that helps "tone" the cervix. It doesn't cause contractions or anything like that, but it does (according to these various sources) help the cervix start to thin out and efface. That will make it easier for the cervix to start dilating, and then the contractions can start on their own.

I happen to like fresh pineapple, so this seemed like a reasonable self-induction myth to test. I bought a container of pineapple chunks while at the grocery store, and ate the whole thing. Of course, now I don't know what to follow that up with. I don't have another appointment until Friday, so I'm not going to be able to have anyone check me to see if I'm actually dilating or not. I guess I'll just have to wait a couple of days and see if I start having contractions, or wait until my appointment and see if the doctor finds that I'm dilating or not. I guess I could go on to a "guaranteed" labor-inducer a friend told me about, but it's sauerkraut, and while I'm a quarter German, I've never really found an affinity for the stuff. I'd like to go into labor soon, but I'm just not sure if I'm THAT willing to experiment. We'll see.

Nothing outlasts the Energizer bunny except me

39 weeks. My due date is one week from today. Since this is a first baby, I could technically have as many as three weeks to go (not that I think my OB would let me go that long). So it isn't really realistic to expect that the baby would be making an appearance this early.

So why am I so jealous of the people I know who are beating me to the punch, so to speak? A former student of mine, who wasn't due until Halloween, had her baby early due to gestational diabetes. Another of my friends, due the day after I am, is scheduled to have her baby on Tuesday (he's breech, and they'll either turn him and induce or c-section him, but one way or another he's coming out). While I certainly don't envy the difficulties they've had in their pregnancies, I can't help but envy the fact that they knew/know exactly when they'd have their babies.

I compared it to waiting for Christmas, except you know exactly how many days are left until Christmas. I'm not really sure what else this equates to.

I have plenty of reasons to want to wait. My birthday is in the middle of this week, and I would rather not spend my birthday in the hospital. Also, my dad is coming into town, and he won't be here until Wednesday. I'd hate to have him miss all the fun. Lastly, my OB is out of town until Wednesday night, so if I want her involvement (which would be nice, since she's been my dr. the whole time), I have to wait until at least Thursday. And an added bonus would be the possibility of having the baby on Friday, which would have been my mother's 67th birthday. I've missed her very much during this pregnancy, so it would be a neat tribute to her to have her grandson born on her birthday.

So why am I so impatient?

You're so vein

First of all, I'm just massively disappointed today. Had my 38-week checkup yesterday, and there's still no progress. No dilation or anything. I know he's dropped, because each day brings increased pressure and discomfort in my pelvis. It's getting harder and harder to walk. But for each week that he stays put, he gets bigger. Now, I shouldn't be disappointed. While anything after 37 weeks is considered "full term", 40 weeks is the traditional nine month gestation period, and a pregnancy could go as far as 42 weeks. So I really could still have up to 3 1/2 weeks left. But I guess just knowing that his lungs should be ready to go and he'd be just fine out here, makes me really want to have him here. And of course a lot of it is selfish. This has been an easy pregnancy, but these last few weeks I've started to get really uncomfortable. I'm totally huge--I weighed 245 lbs yesterday, which is 20 lbs more than I've ever weighed in my life--and it's really hard to do anything. I can't go up and down the stairs easily, I get tired walking the dog even for just a little while, all I want to do is sit on the couch and not do anything. I don't like feeling this way. So the idea of getting Brendan out and immediately losing at least 10 lbs is extremely appealing. Then there's the aspect of change. I know our life is going to change drastically once he's here, and I hate waiting and anticipating the change. I want to KNOW what these changes are going to be like. I want to get started on this new phase. Waiting for this is worse than waiting for Christmas, because at least no matter how much anticipation there is you know exactly when Christmas is coming.

I haven't had a lot of side effects as far as the pregnancy is concerned. I didn't have hardly any morning sickness, my blood pressure hasn't caused any problems for me, and even as far as my weight gain has gone, it hasn't been in the realm that some women have experienced. I have a little swelling of my hands and feet, but it's easily managed. One of the biggest annoyances I have had to deal with is varicose veins.

Varicose veins are basically swollen veins that are having blood backflow into them. There are a variety of causes for varicose veins, and pregnancy is a very common cause. Because there is so much pressure on the circulatory system, some blood gets forced back down into the lower veins (usually in the legs), causing them to swell. When this backflow happens in smaller, secondary veins that are near the surface, they don't swell as much but they become very obvious, turning blue or red, and they are called spider veins. Then there's a wonderful, special kind of varicose veins. These are veins around the rectum that get swollen because of pressure placed on them. These fabulous little guys are call HEMORRHOIDS. They itch, they bleed, they burn, because unlike the other varicose veins on the body, they are constantly having more pressure put on them every time you use the bathroom and then they are being abraded by wiping. Not cool at all. These are also very common in pregnancy, especially in late pregnancy since the baby is low and putting pressure on the vagina and rectum. Thankfully, for me, these particular varicose veins only started showing up a few weeks ago. But I'm hoping almost all of these different kinds of varicose veins go away soon after I deliver. Which is just another reason I really, really want to have this baby soon.

Of course, if I do go into labor in the next week, I'm not going to have my OB with me. She is currently enjoying her honeymoon in Maui. So I guess there is good reason for me to just hang on, not try any of those "old wives' tales" about self-inducing labor, and just ride it out until my next appointment, which is next Friday. But the temptation is definitely there. We'll see what the next week or so has to offer.

My bellybutton obsession

I have a bellybutton obsession. It isn't creepy or anything; I'm obsessed with my own, not with somebody else's.

I am not a fan of "outie" bellybuttons. I've never liked them. Most people have "innies"; to me, an outie is a mistake that the doctor made when the cord was cut. When you see girls with crop-top t-shirts, they're always girls with innies. When you see someone showing off a belly ring, it's always someone with an innie (can you even pierce an outie?). Innies are cute; they collect lint like a bellybutton is supposed to, and you can hide or show off an innie as you feel is appropriate. An outie is going to show regardless of almost any t-shirt that you wear. It's hard to hide an outie.

Pregnant women are notorious for their outies. It isn't their fault; as the baby gets bigger, it puts pressure on all the internal organs and structures, and stretches the skin on the abdomen. For many pregnant women, this results at some point in the pregnancy with the outie making its appearance. For small, thin women, the preggers outie may show up early, maybe even as early as 4-5 months. For bigger women, who have some fat padding in their abdomens, the preggers outie may not show up until later in the pregnancy. But the outie is definitely associated with pregnancy, and is expected. In much of the literature, one can find references to the outie bellybutton as being like the internal thermometer that comes with a frozen turkey or roast, the kind that pops out when the meat is the correct temperature on the inside. For many pregnant women, then the bellybutton pops, the kid is done.

I've been lucky. I'm all the way at 38 weeks now, could deliver any moment, and my bellybutton has yet to pop. But it's distressingly close. It's hanging on by a thread, so to speak. If I'm laying down on my side, there's more room available, and my bellybutton retreats to a much better depth. But when I'm upright and the baby, who has dropped considerably in these late weeks, is putting pressure on my lower abdomen, my bellybutton is hardly a concave spot on my stomach. It's almost flat. I've joked that if it gets any closer to being an outie, I'm going to take a grape and a bandaid and make sure that it doesn't. I don't think I'd go that far, but I definitely don't want an outie. Not that I'm even showing my bellybutton off for any reason; I just don't want one. God and the doctor graced me with an innie, and that's how I want it to stay. But I don't know how much longer it can hang on...

How sweet it is?

You know, yesterday I was feeling really positive about everything (except for the fact that I'm mentally ready to have this kid and apparently he isn't ready to come out yet). But today's a whole different day, and now I'm starting to have my doubts.

I was conversing with someone on Facebook about the baby and how big he's going to be, and feeling pretty proud of myself for having avoided the whole "high blood pressure" thing. Then another friend, who is an EMT, joined the conversation. He asked if I had considered the possibility that I might have gestational diabetes. At first I dismissed his comment; after all, I passed my glucose tolerance test, and there's been no mention of anything like that from my OB ever since. So I really didn't think much about it at first. But he planted a seed in my head, and I did finally start to think about it. I looked up the symptoms of gestational diabetes, and it made me start to wonder. I have had a major sweet tooth during the course of this pregnancy, eating a lot more desserts, candy, and generally sugary stuff than I did before I got pregnant (not that I didn't crave the stuff before, I just didn't eat as much of it). I have gained way more weight than I wanted to, and more than is recommended for a woman who is already overweight. For someone who is overweight, they recommend not gaining more than 20-25 lbs. I've gained 40. I do drink a lot of liquids and pee quite frequently. It's hard to use that as a gauge, since I'm intentionally drinking a lot due to my blood pressure, and peeing a lot as a result of that and as a result of the baby having dropped a bit. The baby's size could be related to that as well, since moms with gestational diabetes tend to have very big babies. But of course we can explain that as well, since big babies run in my husband's family (he was almost 9 lbs, his sister was over 9, his dad and his aunt were about 10). Anyway, I just don't know now. Can someone develop gestational diabetes AFTER the glucose tolerance test?

Then I got to doubting other things as well. I'm feeling pretty rough today, very tired and kind of sore. My thighs are really sore, almost like I worked out a couple days ago or something, making it hard to get up off the couch. Also, I'm having a lot of vaginal/groin pain today. Of course, that could be because my OB checked my cervix yesterday at my appointment, which means she had to stick a lot more of her hand up there than is comfortable (of course, NO hand would be the most comfortable). So it could just be that things got stretched out a bit when she checked me. And it could also just be that the added pressure of the baby's head down there is causing the pain, since he's dropped over the past couple of weeks. Last night I was also feeling a little crampy in my lower abdomen. I have no idea what that might indicate. But when I mentioned it to my husband, he half-jokingly said, "You aren't in labor, are you?" And that got me wondering, how will I know for sure when I'm going into labor? I mean, I would think/hope that it would be really obvious when I start having contractions. I'm assuming that they should be significantly different than the Braxton Hicks contractions I've already been having (which have gotten noticeably stronger in the past couple weeks). But really, how can I tell? Maybe it's just a backache. Maybe it's just cramps. Maybe it's just a slight change in the practice contractions. But maybe it isn't. I don't want to be one of those women who overreacts and rushes to the birth center, only to be sent home by the (possibly) snickering nurses because I'm not in labor. But I also don't want to wait too long and have the kid in the car on the way to the hospital, either. So how am I supposed to know?

All this not-knowing is really annoying.

Ready to pop

I'm 37 weeks (and 2 days) today. Had my checkup this morning, and the doctor was super-pleased that my blood pressure continues to be a non-issue. She said she was sure I'd be having problems with pre-eclampsia by now. Instead, nothing! Spud continues to grow--my OB estimated that he's about 8 lbs NOW (to say nothing of what he might be in three weeks) and probably about 21 or 22 inches long. So he's tall, not wide. That's probably a good thing as far as delivery is concerned. She reiterated that, if he gets really big, she may have to do a "vaginal bypass" (c-section), but that it may not be a problem because I have "good hips". I think that means I'm not a petite flower. :/ Oh well!

My Group B strep test turns out to also be a non-issue--I'm negative, which means no antibiotics needed during my delivery. The fewer IVs and needles I'm exposed to, the better. So that's also good news!

I continue to be disappointed by the fact that, although Brendan has dropped into his "starting" position, I'm not dilated at all. Cervix closed. My OB was still upbeat about it: she said, "You know, very soon your cervix will realize it's fighting a losing battle and just give it up." I think that means that, with continued pressure from Brendan's head, my cervix will realize it's time to boogey and start to efface. Hopefully that's what she meant! Anyway, she said I should expect to start feeling the occasional contraction (as opposed to those stupid Braxton Hicks contractions that I will be so happy to be done with) soon. Fingers crossed. I'm really ready to get this show on the road. There's still lots to do in the house to get ready, but I'm definitely anxious to have him here (and to start sleeping on my tummy again).