I am surprised that no one is wondering if I've gone into labour yet. I officially passed the 38 week mark yesterday, so technically I have two weeks to go. Want to start placing bets on the date?
Friday night I had dinner with the girls and I gotta tell you, I had an amazing time. We went to this little French resto near my place called Cafe Margaux and the food was to die for. The desserts were like art! We were in heaven and 3 out of four of us were tipsy. Pipes bought Baby the cutest Levi's Red Tab jeans! Oh man - he's gonna look so cute in those!
I had plans to go to the karaoke bar afterwards, but the other three were so mushed out on vino that they plopped themselves down on my couch and started watching TV. I got aggitated and basically kicked them out. Mommy was high on chocolate and needed to get out one last time.
So they dropped me off at the karaoke bar on their way home. I went in, saw a bunch of my former coworkers (the ones who were smart enough to get out before things got REALLY bad), saw many of my present coworkers, got up on stage, gave an amazing rendition of "Papa Don't Preach" and went home. That's all I needed. Just one last awesome performance, and did I ever do a good job! I love performing now that I've gotten over my anxiety. It was a good fear to conquer.
Yesterday I woke up and noticed the baby wasn't really moving. I monitored him all day and grew increasingly worried about it. By the time Kerouac popped by to pick up some stuff and see the baby's room, I was freaking. I told her I was thinking of calling the hospital and she agreed that I should. At this stage in the game, they tell you to call if you notice a decrease in baby's movements. He is a very active baby, especially after I eat or drink, but he was doing nothing!
I called the doctor on call and she told me to come in just to put my mind at ease if nothing else. So we did a dry run in a way. Got the bag in the car, drove the 15 minutes to the hospital, parked and checked in. The nurse was waiting for us and she immediately hooked me up to the fetal heart monitor. "Well there's his heartbeat," she said, "so we can all breathe a deep sigh of relief."
Phew! But he still wasn't moving the way he normally does. Usually, you can see a giant foot sticking out several times a day. She said his heartbeat was textbook and also noted some mild cramps/contractions I was having. They are definitely becoming more frequent and feel like the sort of lower back pain you experience when you have your period.
Then the on call doctor came in with the ultrasound machine. Wow, it was tough seeing baby at this stage because he is so huge. The other day at the doctor, they guessed that he was about 7 1/2 pounds now. "Where's his head?" His head is all the way down, what they call "engaged" so the nurse and doctor were very excited about that. You could barely see it on the screen it was so deep in my pelvis. His cute little arm was beside his head, but he wasn't moving at all.
Pushing and prodding would not wake him up. Then the nurse had an idea. "Let me get the shaver." I looked puzzled and scared at this statement, so she explained, "I'm not going to shave you, but the sound or the vibration sometimes helps to wake them up." She buzzed the shaver up near his head and bingo, he was moving. Phew.
Apparently, my placenta (or at least the muscular wall part) is down low on the right side, just below where he normally kicks me. But the little bugger has moved so low that I may not feel the kicks as much because his feet are kicking against that wall. I guess that a lot of the activity I've been feeling is him tunnelling his way down. Oh boy. When is this kid gonna show up?
"Never feel bad to come in," they told us. "A mother's intuition is better than any science or medicine, so don't feel like you're bugging us." They were so nice and supportive, I felt good about the choice of hospital. And I felt good about living in a country where it doesn't cost you to go to the hospital, so you can easily go in and have something like this checked out without having $2 to your name. Amazing.
Anyway, of course the second we got home he was a little soccer player. And he's been kicking the crap out of me ever since. But a kicking baby is a happy baby, so at least I can find comfort in that. Now hopefully I don't go into labour tonight, because the Dog took my hospital bag out of the car (with the good intention that since it is -20 celcius today, my clothes would be freezing should we need them) and left it at his mother's this afternoon -- accidentally mind you, but they live far from us. So he'll have to get the bag tomorrow after dropping me at work for my last day.
Send me good vibes people, I need it.