Yesterday my parents flew in from Seattle to hopefully catch the birth-lab0r-delivery-wave. They picked up a rental car from the airport and then swung by to get me at our apartment. From there we checked into their hotel and then went to lunch. The front desk lady at their hotel was very, very nice. Very enthusiastic. And when she saw me with them she asked how far along I was and I said, “Oh I’m… due.” And she freaked out with excitement. My very proud father said, “That’s why we are here!” Signing in, credit card info, keys, and directions to their room were then completely eclipsed by birth/baby/labor chatter. I smiled at her, she was very sweet, but I also kept thinking, “Being due means nothing. I don’t feel any impending changes…. and who the hell knows when this kid will arrive. Sigh. Sigh X 1000.”
Then I took my parents to In-N-Out Burger, where the cashier – a very enthusiastic young man – asked me when I was due. And I said, “Oh, tomorrow…” And he also freaked out in a very excited way. Told me he was surprised I wasn’t ordering TONS of food (I was just getting a beverage, I had eaten earlier in the day). When he asked me for the second time what I was having I said, “Oh just a drink.” And then my dad responded, “A boy, she is having a boy.” And I laughed…. because even in a conversation involving pregnancy and baby things, sometimes I still forget that’s what everyone primarily is seeing – not just a customer who hasn’t paid yet, but a giant egg-shaped customer who is making another one of us.
Later we went out to dinner. People were ordering wine. I said, “Just water for me,” and the waitress asked when I was due. I said, “Tomorrow.” And she very noticeably gasped. I reassured here I would not break my water in her restaurant, promise. And again, she was very kind. She told me her first was 11 days late. Sigh. Eleven days. She told me everything would be absolutely just fine, that she was so happy for me and congratulations, she told me not to worry about a thing and that it would all work out. I ordered the beet salad. When we were finished she grabbed my shoulder and told me it would be ok and congratulations again, for a minute I had no idea what she was talking about… but then I remembered and said, “Thank you so much!’
I am due now. Right this second I am due. But …. nothing is happening. Last night I googled if labor comes on suddenly or if it is a gradual thing. Most people said they were fine one minute and the next they had cramps or their water broke or they went in for a doctor’s appointment and the doctor was all, “Dude, what the hell?! You’re in labor! Get thee to the 4th floor!” Some of them talked about the little signs in hindsight. Here are some things that have been happening to me:
- Cleaning. I want to clean everything and then I want to clean it again. Nothing can escape my Lysol and a sponge (or a paper towel, guilty as charged). And oh my gosh I just realized I am a little skittish about telling the world what cleaning supplies I use for fear of environmentally minded judgement or someone telling me I’m killing the baby with the fumes. So… moving on.
- Period-like cramps. They come and go. I have had braxton-hicks for so long (since month 4-ish) that no twinge really phases me. I am impervious to false labor people! YOUR FALSE LABOR EXCITES ME NOT! Except contractions started out feeling like a general flexing of my uterus (so weird) and that would happen when I laid wrong, or when I really had to pee, or if I was thirsty. And those got increasingly more intense as I became increasingly more pregnant. But they never felt like period-cramps. So now sometimes I ache like maybe I’m about to start my period? If I wasn’t pregnant it would for sure send me to the lady’s room to check if I had started or not.
- The baby has definitely dropped – my balloon of a belly is squishier up at the top now (closest to my boobs) where Gabe used to love to shove his little rump roast and his feet. Now he pushes about 4 inches lower.
- Speaking of boobs – I think they are bigger. They seem even bigger than before. And sometimes – although it is slight enough for me to second guess it – they are even a little sore (the soreness mostly stopped after the initial holy-shit-boobs growth spurt).
- My feet have a very short life span of being useful. Twenty minutes max before epic ouch-feet pain. This is very inconvenient for life.
But other than that! Here I am! Baby is still inside his perfectly warm, perfectly nutrition-ed, perfectly perfect little world. When he comes out he is going to be poked, he is going to be cold for the first time, he is going to hear his own startling cries, he is going to feel hunger and smell smells and see bright, blurry lights. But he’ll also be cuddled, have a lot of boob right up in his little man face, be wrapped in warm blankets, and have the freshest start of any of us. He will get to be whatever he wants, he’ll get to command adults with the sqwack of his voice, and he will be lucky enough to have some pretty sweet outfits provided by aunties and grandmas and grandpas…. which I will of course style him in to adorable perfection. So really… what the hell is he waiting for?