Due day came and went, as I pretty much expected it would. Some helpful advice I received early on was to throw all pregnancy/baby related expectations out the window so luckily I wasn’t attached and devastated when December 1st didn’t become her birth day. (Although by my very first calculation, December 2nd was her due date – I guess we’ll see…) My preference is an intervention-free labor and delivery as possible so I’m in no rush to rush her. I’ve been told I’m an exception to the rule since many women are begging to be induced by this point, but I can’t say I’m that uncomfortable and really want her her to be able to come on her own time, as I believe babies and bodies are meant to do, outside of emergencies of course. However, yesterday’s appointment showed some protein in my urine which leads to 24 hours of collection and lab work this afternoon to keep a watchful eye for pre-ecamplsia, and ain’t nobody got time for that. So regardless of how this experience goes down, whatever is meant to be will be. I’ve done the planning, learning, and research to make decisions that I’m comfortable with and the rest is up to nature.
On a lighter note, there is NO flattering angle for photographs at forty weeks. It took at least fifteen tries to get this decent one. I mean, I know the bump is big, but I need an accurate size to scale, not one where my shirt makes it look double! And can we talk about my swollen face? I don’t even look like myself. Some days just aren’t photogenic days, and yesterday was one of ’em. Each shot would go like this, “Oh my gosh, I look huge. Do it again.” and he’d say, “Peach, it’s technically due day, you should look huge.” Ugh. True, but still. I’ve said before, I hate to complain about the minor discomforts because compared to some, this pregnancy has been a breeze, but it’s still strange to not look like yourself, even though I’m not quite sure what this is anymore.
So aside from meeting her, I’m excited to feel like my old self again. And excited to *hopefully, eventually, please heavens let it be*, wear my old clothes again. I made maternity work for the last bit with about five versatile tops (I just really hated spending money on things I’d need for such a short time!) but I’ve missed my old clothes and shoes (heels!) so, so much. If these feet don’t shrink back to size I’m going to have lots of size 8.5 BFF’s knocking on my door…
Waiting patiently for you, baby girl…0