‘Twas a surprisingly uneventful meeting. I got weighed (up only three pounds since the week before Thanksgiving, woot!), tried to bribe the nurses to skip the post-Christmas weigh in (no go), peed in the cup (which is becoming surprisingly difficult). Found out this is the last visit I get to keep my pants on for. Starting next time, week 36, he’s apparently going to start shaking hands with Lenny weekly. Lovely.
Dr. Doom reports that the baby has grown since the ultrasound, but he doesn’t want to start worrying about our delivery options until week 38 (four weeks from now). I’m all about beginning to worry as soon as possible, but he’s making me hold off. He did confirm that he doesn’t do episiotomies (if you don’t know what that is, don’t Google it. You’ve been warned…) and then he said he really hopes I go early once I’m full term. That’s not sounding too bad at this point to me, either. We just have to hope Baby Bighead is on board with the early exit plan.
Sleeping is getting more and more difficult and uncomfortable. The stretch marks are audacious enough to start spreading to areas I can actually see them (bastards). Ankles are disappearing. Eyelids are drooping at 6:30 p.m.
We’ve still got six weeks left, people. Everyone have their helmets?