My fingers are crossed that she will say at least one of these things:
- "You are dilated" (...even if it's just a little bit)
- "You may certainly get the (hopefully) labor-inducing ankle rub down this week"
Either statement would make my heart flutter.
According to my ultrasound from last Friday, the baby's estimated weight (as of that day) was 6.5 lbs. The ultrasound also had me measuring slightly further behind and the tech told me I had 4 weeks until my due date instead of 3.5. No ma'am. I do not want to grow this thing for another 4-6 weeks at half a lb a week, give or take a few ounces.
That equals an 8.5-9.5 lb baby at birth.
Let's just say that this is my first, and the prospect of delivering anything that large scares the doodoo out of me.
I'm good with a 7 pounder, thanks. That is horrifying enough.
In more promising news, I had the most legit contractions of my pregnancy last night. I was 50% certain I was starting labor, but it chilled out after a couple hours, and the timing was never regular. Lame.
Oh, and Darren acts a crazy (yet adorable) fool when I'm in that kind of pain/discomfort. Just know that he mayyyy not survive. He thinks it is cute to irritate the bear.
The bear does not exactly find it amusing, though she will continue to love him regardless....sigh...
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