Deadline Extended

S and I have been having a lot of discussions over the last few days about labor induction. I'm not thrilled with the idea of being induced, but I didn't realize until yesterday how totally terrified S is of the idea. Hard to define why... it just freaks him out. So, we talked to Dr. M this morning, and we've pushed back the induction two days. New plan: NST on Monday, to make sure that everything is really truly okay. If so, we'll wait until Thursday for the induction, at which point I'll be at 41w2d, or 9 days past my due date. I'm not thrilled with waiting that long (Dr. M was supportive, but also tossed around the phrase "fetal distress," which is hardly comforting) but S was so incredibly stressed at the thought of inducing too early that this seems like the best plan for us. So, baby Barack's new eviction date is September 18. If he wants to hand-pick his own birthday, he has to do it before then.

As for me... I'm fairly certain that Barack dropped further into my pelvis yesterday afternoon, because I'm suddenly feeling him somewhere between my knees whenever I stand or walk. Sharp downward pains whenever I move. Walking any distance more than the length of our house is now difficult enough that I'm essentially under house arrest. Bored bored bored. The phone calls and emails asking "Where's the baby?!?!", which I thought were kind of funny two weeks ago, are now just pissing me off, so I've stopped answering the phone. I don't remember ever feeling this anxious and uncomfortable ever in my life. But I also have not had a single real contraction that I'm aware of, other than some extremely light tightening feelings that are probably Braxton-Hicks contractions, because they're not painful at all.

Six more days of this, at the most. But please please please let me go into labor before then.

Still Waiting

Today was our last weekly appointment, in honor of reaching a full 40 weeks yesterday. No point in scheduling any more checkups. Dr. M thinks I'll be in labor by Monday, but just in case, we scheduled an induction for next Tuesday, September 16, six days from now. I am so uncomfortable and so worn down, and the baby appears to be so big (and still growing, as opposed to my pelvis) that we decided not to go past there. S wanted to wait until Thursday or Friday to induce, but I'm at my limit. As much as I would much rather go into labor naturally, on my own, I am just not willing to wait that long. So, Baby Barack now has a deadline. If he wants to avoid the dreaded pitocin, he needs to make his move before Tuesday.

The good news is that Barack and I are both still healthy. My blood pressure is actually dropping again, my weight is still on target (27 lbs total over a full 40 weeks), and Barack's heartbeat remains strong, as do his kicks. I have made a bit more progress since last week: 1.5 cm dilated, 70% effaced, -2 station. Better than a week ago, but at this rate, I'll be having the baby sometime around Thanksgiving.

Between napping and pacing around the house, I've been watching DVDs while sitting on a birthing ball. We have a fairly large collection of movies, so for the past several days, I've been watching anything that sounds even remotely appealing, just to pass the time. This approach has led to a rather eclectic mix of movies. How's this for a double-header: "Casablanca" and "Zoolander." I've watched "Crimson Tide" several times because looking at Denzel Washington makes lots of situations better. Young Harrison Ford has also featured prominently in several selections.

I've also been re-reading Harry Potter books. They're just the right mix of distraction and fluff.

But... these mindless coping techniques are starting to reach their limit of effectiveness. I had been hanging out with my friend C, who was due the same time as me, but she went into labor on Monday and had her daughter early Tuesday morning, so now I'm on my own. Waiting waiting waiting....

Pumpkin

Yes, I'm still here, and still pregnant, at 40 weeks. I'm not exactly happy about it, but not a whole lot I can do about it, either. S and I have both marveled at how quickly I went from "Hey, pregnancy isn't so bad!" to "I seriously can't go on like this!" Because seriously -- I can't go on like this. Our five day triple-digit heat wave (once again, without A/C) is thankfully over, which is helping a bit, but I'm still so gosh darn uncomfortable that I'm finding it a bit hard to see the positives. I'm not sleeping, and I'm barely eating, thanks to near-constant heartburn. It hurts to sit, it hurts to walk, it hurts to lay down, it hurts to move. Even the smallest task, like getting in and out of a car, seems like a monumental undertaking. Everything about me is swollen.

It's strange to count down to a particular date for 9 months, and then that day comes and is just another day. Nothing is happening. And somehow, I had convinced myself that I would go into labor before my due date, so I never really wrapped my head around being in this position.

We have tried every old wive's tale that exists to try to induce labor. And yes, I do mean every single one. Even the incredibly uncomfortable ones (eg, spicy food does not induce labor, it just makes heartburn even worse). S has even taken to yelling at my cervix ("Dilate!!!") and my uterus ("Contract!!!") but they're both ignoring him. Still, it's healthier than yelling at the baby ("Leave!!!") which was his initial instinct. He does occasionally plead gently with the baby ("Please come out so we can meet you!") but it's only brought about swift kicks to my hip bones. We even tried the tempting-fate approach and hosted a small Monday Night Football party last night (Go Packers!) but alas, I didn't go into labor by halftime like I had hoped.

My 40-week appointment is tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be showing some more progress, but either way, we're going to have to have a conversation about induction. Suggestions on how to kick-start labor are more than welcome. Even silly ones. In the mean time, I'm off to continue bouncing up and down on a birthing ball.

A Little Progress

One of the most common questions a pregnant woman gets asked, in addition to "Boy or girl?", is "When are you due?" In the beginning, I answered this question with a date. I'm due in September. After a while, when I was further along, I answered with relative time. I'm due in 2 months. Six weeks. Things like that. This past month, I started answering in days. I'm due in 18 days. Sounds close, doesn't it? I have now reached a new milestone; a new way to answer the question.

I'm due on Tuesday.

How bizarre is it that an answer of "Tuesday" is actually unambiguous? I don't need to specify which Tuesday, because it's this coming Tuesday. The very next Tuesday we're going to have. That's when I'm due. On Tuesday.

That's all very exciting, but baby Barack may have other plans. I had my 39 week appointment today, and though there has been some progress, it's not much. I'm 1 cm dilated and 50% effaced. Rather than look at those numbers in absolute terms (one measly centimeter?!?) I'm choosing to look at them in multiplicative terms: I'm infinitely more dilated than the zero centimeters of last week! Doesn't infinite progress sound great?! The baby has also dropped a bit more, to -3 station. It might not seem like much, but last week I wasn't even on the scale, so this is definitely an improvement.

So, the good news is that some progress has definitely been made. The bad news is that this sort of progress doesn't necessarily translate into being any closer to labor. Dr. M is hopeful that I'll go into labor on my own sometime in the next week, but if I end up having to keep next week's appointment, he's going to want to discuss induction. Baby Barack seems to be in excellent health, but he also seems big, so nobody (including me) wants to let me go more than a week or so past my due date. One way or another, Dr. M wants the baby out of me by September 17 or so.

Otherwise known as: a week from Wednesday.

Watermelon

T minus one week and counting. Yep, I'm at 39 weeks. The famous "Enough already, get this thing out of me!" stage. I have to say, overall, I think that I have had an easier pregnancy than most. I've experienced quite the range of pregnancy symptoms, but each one has been fairly short-lived, with long respites that have actually been pretty comfortable and enjoyable. More good than bad. These last few weeks, though... they're starting to wear on me. Yet another heat wave without air conditioning, this one reaching triple digits, has pushed me over the edge. Unbearable heat. Unbelievably swollen ankles and feet. Painfully swollen hands. No more than 3 consecutive hours of sleep in weeks. A remarkably squirmy baby who manages to get his little legs kicking at every major internal organ I own. I am ready to move on.

My unrelenting exhaustion means that I was much relieved to have been off from work this past week. Around short but frequent naps, I was able to knock off just about everything on my to-do list. (A few small things remain, but they're very small. "Buy stamps" kind of small.) By Friday, though, I was out of things to fill my days, which is making the waiting even harder. Time moves sooooo slowly when you're home alone in an overheated house with nothing fun or productive to do. (Bored? Might as well begin labor....) Besides, the hospital has air conditioning. And it would have pleased the punster in me to go into labor on Labor Day.

I am still (naively) hopeful that I will deliver before my due date next Tuesday. My own guess in our baby betting pool is this Thursday, September 4. But as hours and hours go by without so much as a single Braxton-Hicks contraction, that goal seems further and further away. On the bright side, Dr. M probably wouldn't let me go too far past 41 weeks without inducing me, given that baby Barack is consistently measuring on the large side, so I have ~17 days max yet to go. In the mean time, we've rented DVDs, gone out to see some movies ("Tropic Thunder" was only so-so. "Bottle Shock" was light and fun.), had lunches out with friends, and been generally trying to socialize as much as possible. The waiting continues.

Another Anecdote

I've mentioned in the past that my PhD advisor, who is nearing 60, never been married, never had children, never had a pregnant student, and has actually rarely even had a female student (I think I'm the second or third one in his 30+ year career) falls into what I would call the "supportive but clueless" category when it comes to dealing with my pregnancy. He means well. He really does. He just doesn't quite fully understand the situation. And being a male computer scientist, he exhibits the usual stereotypical social awkwardness that is somewhat prevalent in my field. This week's anecdote to illustrate the point:

There's an event in my lab at school next week that my advisor wants me to try to attend. This isn't a totally unrealistic expectation, since (a) I really do want to attend it; and (b) let's be honest, I'm not exactly going into labor at the moment. Still, I warned him that, despite both his and my hope for me to be there, it might not happen. Less than 10 days before my due date? Entirely out of my control at this point. I reminded him that I could go into labor at any time, and if that happens before the event, then I would (obviously) not be able to attend. He responded by saying, "Or you could just hold it in until afterwards." At which point I said, "Yeah, right!" and I laughed. Wouldn't you? Because everybody in the world knows that's absurd, right?

At which point he launched into a story. Several years ago, he was on an airplane, and he drank a lot of water, but for some reason, he didn't get up during the flight to go to the bathroom. It got to the point where he really needed to pee, and as he started to get up, the seatbelt sign came on because they were approaching their destination. So, he stayed in his seat. But then the plane circled the airport for like half an hour or more! And he had to hold it in that whole time, even though he really had to go! It was "really painful," but somehow he managed to hold it in until the plane was safely on the ground. So he knows how tough it can be to hold it in, he totally gets it, but he knows I could do it if I really wanted to.

How do you respond to a story like this? I stared at him in bemused disbelief for several seconds before slowly saying, "Thanks for that gripping and completely relevant story." Several of my labmates were present for this entire encounter, and even the nerdiest and most oblivious among them had somewhat horrified expressions on their faces. (Probably not because of the ridiculousness of the suggestion that labor = needing to pee, but rather because of the ridiculousness of publicly sharing that story for any reason. That time you really needed to pee but didn't? That's a story that needs to be told?!)

My advisor shrugged and said, "Just something to consider." Several people present told me that they were amazed I didn't punch his lights out right there. I'm still shaking my head over the whole thing. He really had to pee, but he held it in! Truly inspiring.

Leek

Here we are at 38 weeks. Anywhere from 0 to 4 weeks left. Know how far dilated I am? Zip. Nada. Not a bit. I'm also not at all effaced. It took Dr. M several tries to find Barack's heartbeat today because he was looking waaay too low; turns out Barack is still happily swimming somewhere up around my throat. You getting the feeling that this kid isn't planning to make an appearance anytime soon? Dr. M mentioned that he's on call all day Saturday, and he ended the appointment by saying, "So maybe I'll see you then!" I snorted with laughter, at which point he grinned and said, "Yeah, okay, probably not. I'll see you at next week's appointment instead." Stranger things have happened -- apparently women go from "not even close" to "holy crap active labor!" in short order all the time. I just don't see it happening for me.

My last day of work was on Friday, so I am now officially on maternity leave (woo hoo!). I am now deep in organizing and cleaning mode. Last minute errands. Trying to rest. Trying to do some fun stuff like movies and reading and lunches with friends while I still have the flexibility to do them easily. That sort of stuff. I have also been able to make some progress on my to-do lists, knocking off a whole bunch of stuff yesterday. The house is actually in pretty good shape. S and I have made it a mission to go to sleep each night with the house in a presentable condition, in case we need to leave unexpectedly. It's working really well so far. As of last night, when we hung some pictures and put away our initial supply of cloth diapers, I feel comfortable saying for the first time: the nursery is ready. There are definitely still things on my to-do list that I'd like to get done before Barack makes his arrival, but they're things like "get oil change for car," not "buy essential item for baby" or "learn about that whole labor thing," so I think we're good.

We have a baby pool among family and friends (for a few bucks, guess Barack's arrival date and time, and maybe win fabulous cash prizes!). The earliest entry in the pool (from S's mom) was yesterday. She emailed me in the morning to encourage me to go out jogging or something to induce labor. Instead, we continue to wait. Lots of other people have weighed in on when they would prefer we have the baby as well. My mom, a teacher, has an opinion relative to the upcoming start of her school year. My brother would prefer sometime this week, so that his visit would coincide with his favorite baseball team playing a series in our city. My dad has asked that we wait until the end of the week, so that he doesn't have to reschedule a contractor doing some work on the house. Everybody has an opinion.

S and I had a totally pointless conversation last night about when WE think it would be ideal for me to go into labor. Leaving aside that our opinion matters not at all, coming up with a hypothetical date is a delicate balancing act. On one hand, we want to have time to finish the few remaining things that we really want to get done, and take into account which events scheduled in the next few weeks we do or do not want to miss. On the other hand, I am growing increasingly uncomfortable day by day, so neither one of us wants to extend this thing indefinitely. We decided on Friday. Friday would be fine. Hear that, Barack? Friday works well for us. So maybe try swimming downwards a bit one of these days.