Week 36, Day 6. I think it’s safe to say that my blog has officially moved into the "All Baby, All The Time" catagory–catergory? Anyone know how to spell that? Is there a spell check on this thing? Anyone care?
I had my weekly doctor’s appointment yesterday and things look good–better than good. I’ve been contracting all week long and it’s paying off–apparently I’m dilated to 2 or 2 and a half (I’ll take that half) and my baby is fast dropping, which is making my tummy just a wee bit smaller. I learned that I’ve previously been measuring about four weeks ahead of schedule. Cool, huh? I also met my New Doctor, who, sadly, does not have different colored eyes, but still seemed nice enough. She acted surprised that I haven’t opted to have labor induced–I guess because the baby’s so big?–but I honestly don’t see a legit reason to just yet. And I’m not sure why eyes are so important to me when it comes to who’s giving me medical care, but this lady had brown eyes and for some reason I’m very reassured by brown eyes, and that’s got to be a good thing, at least for the five minutes it takes for the woman to deliver my kid. Hmmm…I wonder what the Labor and Delivery nurses look like.
Anyhoo, after my exam, I started contracting again, this time fairly regularly and not at all comfortably. I got a little worried that we’d be taking another trip to the doctor yesterday, but after a bath, a tylenol, a backrub, and a good night’s sleep, the contractions are gone. My father-in-law had a great idea for getting labor started and I can honestly see it working like a charm: Go buy a bunch of liquor and have Caleb get completely wasted–I’ll for sure need to go to the hospital the second he passes out. And it’s a simple as that. He brought up a valid point, though, and I think that from here on out, it’s probably a good idea for Caleb to limit his daily beer intake.
Today, though, I can walk, I can talk, and unfortunately, I can probably do a little laundry. Damn. I’ve got a long list of things I want to get done–excuse me, things I probably need Caleb to get done–before I go into labor for real. This list includes cleaning the ceiling fans and changing the air filters in the house, and I hadn’t thought about it before now, but I think I’d like (him) to vacuum my car out, too. Yes, I’m aware that I’ve become a naggy pregnant bitch. I’ll apologize later on in life.
As far as the baby goes, everything is ready…I think. I washed stuff. I folded stuff. We touched up the paint in the closet and found the nuts and bolts to the crib. What more could a little boy ask for? Perhaps a name? Yeah, well. Still a touchy subject. Caleb likes a few but he’s having trouble deciding–at least Riddick and Wolverine are out of the running, and that’s all I care about. I’d reveal a couple of our choices here, but the second I do that, then Caleb will change his mind, and I don’t want to jinx anything.
My parents aren’t too keen on a couple of the names we’re currently debating–too "off the wall"…but then again, I don’t think the names Cheyenne or Mia really thrilled them much, either. "You don’t really want to name your daughter ‘Mia’, do you?" I remember my dad asking back then. This time around it’s "How about a normal name like Joe, or John? Something he can live with?" I think it’s so cute when my dad gives out his opinions, mainly because he so rarely does, and it always takes me by surprise (read: cracks me up) that he feels so strongly. Never stop sharing, Dad.
And by the way, for those of you truly wondering, it’s "category".