I’m not dilated or effaced at all. Please try not to lose your mind/almost burst in to tears like my mom did when given the news. It made me feel like such a failure–as if getting up four times to pee last night hadn’t made my day bad enough. I’m only 37 weeks and 5 days. We’ve got to keep it in perspective, people.
In happier news, I did lose two pounds. I asked Dr. Doom to do a happy dance, throw some confetti, or something in celebration. All he said was “Eh, it was just water weight.” Bastard.
We’re doing a quickie sonogram on Monday to see how big Lenny is; Dr. Doom guessed 7.5 lbs as of today. Mr. Aggie is letting me go to this one unsupervised, and I just hope I can do him proud.
Oh, and before I forget: there was one minor hiccup in today’s apppointment that involved pee. You know that’s going to end well. I’d gone through my usual ritual–it’s quite complicated–and was already congratulating myself on a clean catch when…I spilled some of the pee. Into my pants. (I was still sitting down, in case you’re having trouble following the narrative.) Thankfully it was only a tiny bit, and the pants were black, but still. That could have been a disaster.
It says something about me that the first thing I thought (after “Oh @($%!”) was “Well that’s got to go on the blog.”
And though it’s not at all flattering, here’s a picture from today (snapped in our supersnazzy staff bathroom).