Monday, February 4, 2013

First babies come late, right. Right?

Let me start by clarifying that Gummy is still an inside baby (otherwise known as a fetus). But at 35 weeks on the dot, I am starting to wonder about how long she'll decide to stay in there. Or how long she will be allowed.

My last visit to my OB was all good, except for my blood pressure, which was higher than usual. Dr. Smiley said to keep an eye on it, stop by the pharmacy and get a reading whenever convenient. I've been doing that and the tricky diastolic number is rising. Crap.

For the last 30 some odd weeks, I've been banking on Gummy arriving on the late side of her due date: March 11. I've told my employer that I would work until March 8. Being that it is International Women's day, it seemed an appropriate one to go on maternity leave.

I'm not sure if it was the initial high blood pressure reading, my colleague who is due the day after me being ordered to stop work last week to go on bed rest, or a fellow DE mama I correspond with whose darling girl showed up at 35 weeks, but I'm thinking my early prognostications might be bunk. If the blood pressure keeps going up, Gummy will get an eviction notice I believe.

I have an OB appointment this Thursday, and plan on asking many 'what if' questions. We've already established that I'm a high maintenance patient at my last appointment (when I remarked I was and she laughed, the international sign of acquiescence). And I am mentally switching gears at work and trying to wrap things up as much as I can each day.

Maybe if I visualize what date I need her to come on, she will abide. (loved your comments on my last post, women. Thank you for not throwing tomatoes at me).   

In the mean time, I have fully settled into the fatigue of T3. It is more intense than T1 for me. I am as big as a house (more like a home, my beloved friend said). My sleep is on the crappy side of bad (but I don't want to say that one too loudly, since you know, it's about to get worse). Heartburn, digestive upsets, and sadness and tearfulness. Bring it on, I say. Embracing pregnancy is where it's at, women. It's a glorious journey.

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