40+

Whelp, it's Tuesday, so that means I budget two hours of my day to fart around at the doctor's office. Such is the life of a lady in her last month of pregnancy. We had our usual operating procedure, and Sequins was an overachiever on all counts. She looked darling on the ultrasound and is slightly above the curve in terms of growth at around 7.5 pounds. She's got plenty of amniotic fluid around her and is a happy little beautiful baby.

My blood pressure is fine and dandy and nothing to be concerned about. The baby rocked out during the nonstress test, with plenty of kicking and punching and accelerating heart beats. The nonstress test is a funny thing - I both love it and loathe it. On one hand, it's nice to just sit there for 20 minutes, reading a book, hearing the baby's heartbeat. The chair is comfy, I usually spend time texting with my child's father, and I talk to Sequins as she does her little baby dances. On the other hand, they always say "I'll be back to check on you in five minutes" and they NEVER come back until 10-15 minutes has passed. And there is no way of alerting a nurse or doctor that you are done or that the baby has moved and slipped off the monitor, other than unstrapping yourself and going out with a goo covered gut to talk to someone (which I have only done once, on a day when I was FURIOUS about being left for a REALLY long time.) Today Sequins got really busy in the first five minutes of the test (which would be enough for the doc to probably say "okay, you're good, get out of here") but I was there for almost a half hour while she alternated between sleeping and then kicking the crap out of me. I think I am going to suggest that they get some sort of alarm system in that room. Even just a tin can on a string would suffice. Especially because, not to be graphic, but I generally shotgun 12-20 oz of water or Gatorade before a doctor's appointment, and a half hour is a long time for me to be separated from bathroom access.

So, that's the baby news. As for me, the doctor said that my body is not doing anything that would indicate that labor is impending, and he thinks I'll go at least a week late. I'm not surprised - I've been feeling like I'll have an elephantine gestation since very early on in the pregnancy. I feel like it took me forever to show, and even at 9 months, I'm not very big (in the belly area. My walrus arms and shelf ass are a different story) and it's only been in the last two weeks that strangers have begun commenting on my pregnancy. I mean, I got through an airport without a single raised eyebrow at 35 weeks pregnant!

The good news is that I'm fine with going overdue. I'm still really comfortable, other than the constant bathroom breaks and the trouble I sometimes have falling asleep or staying asleep. I love having the baby live inside me, close to my heart. She's still moving all of the time, and I love just sitting there with my hand on my stomach, feeling her kick and roll and generally act up. I also realize that once I have her, my life will never be the same. An extra week of pregnancy might mean one more date night with Tim, or another chance to go up to LA to meet a girlfriend for lunch. I know everyone else is eager to meet her, and I am too, but I love being pregnant with this little nugget. Even if Tim does accuse me of hogging her. IT'S TRUE. I AM BOGARTING THIS BABY.

So, I guess this means that if you would like to revise your bet for when the baby will arrive, please let me know, and I can update the tally. At this point, there is no prize for being correct, but we can perhaps think of something. Like... winner gets a picture of my freakish belly button. Or not.

Here are some much cuter pictures:
Here you can see her cute little profile, and both of her grubby little paws up near her face.

She is super excited about her first post-season. I have purchased her a Homer Hanky of her very own. Hopefully, she will make it out in time for the World Series. At the very least, I'd like her to wear her Halloween costume.