This is the last pregnancy post I'll do. I never plan to be pregnant again (only this time measures are being taken to be MUCH more certain that this statement is accurate) and this baby is coming out for sure in the next few days.
*Sigh* According to my last period, I'm 42 weeks pregnant tomorrow. Somewhere early in pregnancy, we chose to use a "due date" of March 13 instead of March 20 (there were a few contradictory ultrasounds) and therefore I began the journey of becoming more and more pregnant and mentally ready for a 3rd baby to be here around the 20. I chose a week past my given due date because Ben was a week late, so I just figured it was safer to give this baby a full extra week.
And, here we sit on the eve of March 27. 7 full days later than the mental due date I had for myself. 2 full weeks after my given due date, but potentially only 1 full week late. It's SUCH a mental game, isn't it? I thought I was being GENEROUS to this child by mentally preparing myself for the 20th. I really wasn't mentally prepared to still be pregnant right now. And, being mentally prepared means SO much. In any case, this little bugger is taking a super long time to find the exit sign in there and I'm tempted to stick a flashlight up there and give him a little guidance...
So, here I sit. 41 or 42 weeks or somewhere in between. Large, uncomfortable, in pain every day, unable to sleep well or bend over. I've become the third child that Ritchie has to put shoes on in the morning. I'm REALLY trying to be positive and it comes in waves. Sometimes, I'm all - YES! Pregnancy, let the baby be, he'll come when he's ready, enjoy these last few days, pay special attention to Max and Ben, etc etc... but I'd say, at this point, about 98% of my time is spent obsessing over is the baby coming, is that a contraction, ooh there's another one, FUCK they stopped, shit labor really hurts - is there any way out of this now? WHY HASN'T HE COME OUT YET?! None of these thoughts are pleasant or productive, please know that I know that.
So... my midwife group here (well, the ONE midwife that I actually like and managed to snag an appointment with on Monday - which, for journaling purposes, I was checked and was 2cm and 50-60% effaced and baby was low) was totally fine with me going all the way up to "42" weeks and was happy to even let me pick a middle ground since we're unsure of the actual due date. Friday morning isn't exactly a middle ground, but I chose it because it works for everyone's schedule (and, hey, if you're going to PLAN your damn birth you may as well make it convenient, right?) and because she would be there to help me figure out my induction plan based on my cervical readiness/baby's position that morning. I really trust her the most out of everyone I've met, so Friday it is.
So, here's the thing. We did a home birth with Bennett. I totally and completely believe that babies come when they're ready and that inductions that aren't medically necessary (and those that are, frankly) often lead to even more interventions and ultimately result in more c-sections. These are my own personal thoughts and I believe every woman has a right to think/feel the way she'd like to about birth and her own experiences. Want a c-section? Go for it! Want to pick every child's birthday and be induced so you can control when they come? By all means! Want to push your baby out with a midwife in a field of daisies under the moon? I hope that works out for you!! I seriously see the pros and cons of ALL of these scenarios and believe, if possible, that a woman should get to choose.
For me, I'm more the daisies under the moon route. We couldn't afford a home birth this time. It totally sucks. Hospitals give you that deadline. I'm up against that deadline now. I'm feeling super sad about that. I wish with all my might that he'll come on his own tonight or tomorrow or tomorrow night or even start up labor like 20 minutes before we're scheduled to go into the hospital. I'd give ANYTHING for that to happen. However, I'm really trying to prepare myself for that not happening. I'm trying to remember that every baby is different and every pregnancy is different and maybe this little turd needs a jump start. It happens, I know. I'm trying very hard not to feel like a failure in what is my final pregnancy and birth.
And, because this was ridiculously long winded and full of swears and basically me whining the whole time, I thought I'd share with you how jacked up my brain is right now by telling you two funny things. Sort of like a bonus for reading all of this crap.
1. Max and Ben's preschool called on Monday morning at like 6:30am to let me know it was canceled for the day. The area code was a WA area code and I swear to you, in my sleepy haze, I got super excited and thought it was the hospital calling me to tell me that I was in labor. I was unbelievably excited.
2. There's a sign on the path to preschool (which I drive 8 times a week) that says something about contractors and EVERY time I think it says CONTRACTIONS and I think... contractions?! Am I having contractions?!
It's all pretty ridiculous.