Stop, Drop, and Birth

I was informed today by a man in Starbucks that I had better drop soon if I am hoping to give birth by Saturday. He has four sons, you see, so he knows how low these babies need to look before they are ready to come out. He also knows that I couldn't possibly have gained more than 12lbs and that I am carrying like I am five or six months pregnant rather than nine. I hated to correct him since clearly he prides himself on his pregnancy expertise...I told him that if I find out that I am five/six months pregnant versus nine, doctors' heads are gonna roll. He laughed and said "Well, you're certainly small enough that you look like you could stand to go another few months." Sir, would you mind redirecting that last statement to my not only bruised, but cracked rib? I think it would like to address your observation by giving you a sharp smack to the back of the head. I don't care how small I look, it is time. It is time, it is time, it is time. Another week, I can accept. I have wrapped my head around the fact that most first babies show up well behind schedule, but another three months? I think not.

Yesterday we went in for a mini-doctor's visit and the news is that there is no real news. Actually, that's not fair. The very good news is that Orange Seed is by no means in distress and, in fact, she seems to be doing quite well. Her heartbeat is still just fabulous and any peaks and valleys are fully attributable to her movements. I'm having some small Braxton Hicks contractions, but other than that, my body is only baaaaaaarely starting to prepare for labor. It will be interesting to see if anything has changed when we have our follow-up appointment on Thursday afternoon, but for now, it appears that everything is just continuing per the status quo. Nightly, Chris and I encourage Orange Seed. "Okay, it is almost time...big day coming up...time to pack your bags, wiggle your way on down and get ready to join the world." That said, if we have learned anything about Orange Seed in the past nine months, it is that she will likely do whatever she feels like doing. Despite nightly pleadings that she cease kicking my ribs, she has continued to scoot her little legs right up there and to go to town on a regular basis. Despite asking her to maybe ease up on the movements after midnight, she still occasionally enjoys a good 3am jog around my uterus. Even pre-birth, I think it has been clearly established that she is in charge here and that Chris and I are just along for the ride. Time to start working on a post-birth game plan...