It's kind of amazing how double-minded I am these days. On one hand, I feel like I am racing toward the finish line, desperately trying to get all of my ducks in a row before this baby arrives. I have a mountain of work to do, at home, on my blog, on my book, and also, of course, at WORK. I am going to need every day that this baby can spare me, so of course, OF COURSE, I'm in no hurry for Babeleo to make his/her appearance.
On the other hand, I look at pictures of babies and tear up. I spend gratuitous minutes sitting in the nursery, nuzzling tiny clothes, rubbing my belly and wondering how on Earth I'll endure the wait even one minute longer. I am really looking forward to meeting my baby. It's like trying to sleep on Christmas Eve for a whole month.
I'm also endlessly curious about this tiny little person hammering away at my insides. Is she a girl? Is he a boy? How big are they? Where exactly are they in there? Is this lump sticking out from under my ribs a foot or what?
On Monday we were treated to a sampling of vague answers. The midwives at our birthing center are not without a sense of mystery. To be honest, I don't really know the difference between their style and how pregnancies are sometimes handled at other kinds of offices, but my bestie always gives me an earful after hearing my second-hand reports.
This particular visit focused on Babeleo's position and the dilation of my cervix. Both things can serve as helpful clues in determining how soon the baby might decide to begin his little trip down birthing lane. Now like I said, I don't know jack when it comes to standard procedures, so when Melissa asked me how many centimeters dilated I was, she was truly annoyed at my response. "A fingertip? What the hell does that mean?" Then she asked how big the baby was. Crickets. "Well did you get any good pictures from the ultrasound?" I sheepishly admitted that they didn't print any for me. Melissa was beside herself.
(By the way, I found out how they check your cervix for dilation, and it wasn't the way I expected. It was much more personal. That is all.)
In an effort to comfort my poor harried bestie, I did a little bit of Googling. It turns out that the term "fingertip dilated" is actually pretty common, and means that I'm somewhere around a centimeter. I don't know if my midwife measured the actual baby during our ultrasound, but she did mention that my baby zone (uterus?) is measuring at exactly 36 weeks, so I'm GUESSING that means the baby is just about average size for 36 weeks, which according to the internet is around 6 lbs. 3 oz.
So to sum up, we don't really know how big the baby is or when it's coming, but it's probably a normal size, and it's probably going to be a while. It IS in the right direction though (head down), and I found out what the lump under my ribs is - a baby butt!
The psychic's predictions of an early baby are losing ground. Hey science!
In other news, our midwife planted a fun little seed of doubt in our heads regarding baby names. "You know", she says, "sometimes the baby comes out and just doesn't look like the name you picked. Better come up with some backups just in case."
The concept of backup baby names has generated some truly outlandish possibilities. I don't want to jinx them by spilling the beans, but think highlanders, vikings, and sci-fi.
Good luck, baby. You've got one parent with preggo-brain, and one with an unhealthy affection for 80's/90's video games picking out backup names for you now. I promise I won't let your father name you Guile or Duke Nukem, but that's the best I can do.