So it seems the only time I can remember to blog anymore is when I get those little reminder emails from BlogHerAds reminding me that I once again have forgotten for more than two weeks and uh, I won’t have any ads there until they start seeing activity. At first I’d get annoyed, now I’m like, “Hey, thanks! I’ll go get on that!”. Putting a reminder in my calendar or phone would just be too freakin’ easy and would make too much sense.
So now that I’m “in the home stretch” as they like to say, and at 35 weeks I’ve gotten to the point where I will purposely go into places of business just to scare the heck out of the employees. I am ridiculously large at this point, my uterus is measuring a good week-and-a-half larger than I am gestationally, I’m just under the 40lb gained mark, and have a highly irritable uterus. Thankfully, as of this past Monday, I have officially been on work-restriction and was ordered by my doctor to “lower my activity levels”. I laughed so hard peed my pants (not that it isn’t hard to do now). Since she hadn’t seen me in a while (I go to a big OB-GYN practice), I reminded her that
- I work full time 30 miles away from my home
- My husband travels a lot for work and likes to go places like northern Alaska, where it takes him 2 days to get there and 2 days to return, not to mention the 7-10 days he’s actually working while there
- I have two older boys
- My family lives 700 miles away
She told me to work from home, then, since that was one big way to keep my activity down, and keep me off the road when I’m having some 30 contractions per day during my waking hours. Even though I’m having a lot of contractions, they’re (thankfully) not doing anything besides wearing me out, but her concern is that they’ll become more organized too soon unless I decrease my activity and stress levels.
I was also worried that I was going to have some enormous baby and asked about a sonogram and how soon would they consider delivering if he was as big as I swear him to be. She grabbed my tummy, got a good grip on him, and poked and prodded around. She felt pretty certain that he probably was only slightly bigger than average, that a good portion of what I’m toting around in my belly is amniotic fluid (I’ve always had larger-than-average volumes of amniotic fluid, so not too surprised), and that within the past 2-3 years, if the only concern is the size of the baby, they will not deliver any sooner than 39 weeks because should the baby get wedged in there on the way out, they can always do a c-section. I shrieked at her, “but I don’t WANT a c-section!!!! especially an emergency one!” She laughed at me (actually laughed!) and said, “well, you’ve already delivered two really big babies…I don’t think you’ll have any trouble delivering this one.” I just scowled at her and tried to decide what would be more embarrassing: me passing out on the OR table from that dang vagus nerve and becoming the laughing stock of the hospital; or me and the baby both needing diapers.
Although I might now need to consider diapers for my dog…poor thing just had a wicked case of the shamans. Ewww.
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