Will was born at 1:11 PM on Friday, June 26th. He weighed in at a whopping 8lbs 9oz and measures 20.5 inches. He's healthy, perfect, and an adorable addition to our happy family. Birth story to follow, but for now, enjoy some pictures!
I have an 8 and a half pound baby in my belly. At least that's what the estimate is based on my ultrasound today. This is apparently in the 76th percentile for gestational age. I warned Jamie while we were sitting in the waiting room that if they predicted a 9 lb baby, I would cry. And while 8.5 lbs is less than 9, it still freaks me out. But perhaps that's a generous estimate. We can hope. However, considering how much my pelvic bones have been hurting this week any time I walk, stand, or even roll over in bed, I have surmised that the bones are no longer actually connected to each other and will be able to accommodate. I guess we'll just have to see! Of slight concern, my amniotic fluid appears to be low. Adequate, but low. I'm trying not to worry about that. I had a non-stress test also, which involved sitting in a recliner with sensors strapped to my belly for 20 minutes. The baby's heart rate fluctuated like it was supposed to which was good, but I had no real contractions to speak of. Bummer. However, my doctor was VERY pleased with my progress when she did my exam (which was less than pleasant, I might add). I am 80% effaced and 2 cm dilated at this point. She essentially said, "I doubt you'll make it to Sunday." Yay! I'm still scheduled to be induced at 7 AM on Sunday though, just in case. We'll be meeting our baby so soon! It's exciting! Our family of two is about to become three! Jamie is about to explode with anticipation. In the car on the way home he said, "I feel like we're about to get this awesome new toy to play with!" While a funny way to say it, I know exactly what he means. He is just adorable sometimes. In the manliest of ways, of course.
Also of note, there was an old man sitting across from us in the waiting room at the OB/GYN. I'm not sure who he was with or what they were there for. Hopefully it was nothing serious because I'm about to make fun of him. We were all peacefully keeping to ourselves, as strangers do, reading magazines, talking amongst ourselves. When I suddenly hear "Clip, clip." I look up, thinking to myself, "No WAY." Oh, but WAY people. WAY. It was really happening. Mysterious old man was CLIPPING HIS FINGERNAILS right there in the waiting room. And even MORE troubling than the fact that he was performing this typically personal and private form of hygiene in a VERY public place, there was nary a garbage can in sight! Where was he disposing of his old man nail clippings?! Gag me with a spoon! I looked over at Jamie and said "Is he for real?" And then I said what has become an all too common phrase around our house. "This is TOTALLY going in my blog."
Finally, I will take this opportunity to share with you a brief Public Safety Announcement. If you have a large exercise ball, always maintain at least one foot on the floor or one hand on something to hold it steady while sitting or laying on it. Prior to last night, Jamie thought this exercise ball was great fun and a direct challenge to his balancing skills. While attempting to achieve the perfect balance of his 6'1" frame on said ball, Jamie managed to nearly take out the large and expensive TV, his head, and our new baby swing. Plus, he gave himself a third degree rug burn. I'm innocently emailing on the couch as we watch "Swing Vote" via NetFlix (which while funny, would have been much more enjoyable had it not featured cameos by every liberal, leftist media personality in existence) when suddenly I see the large pink ball go flying toward the TV, Jamie soaring head-first toward one of the end tables, and the poor baby swing flinging dangerously from side to side. I'm laughing so hard just remembering it, I can hardly write. So, beware. Odds are, you are not as good at balancing as you think you are. Use your exercise ball with care.
I really will. It certainly feels that way. Today was my due date. And aside from the occasional contraction, there is no indication that labor is in my near future. Although I guess some women do just suddenly go into labor without a lot of build up. You see it in the movies ALL THE TIME. I mean, has there EVER been a movie in which a couple takes a calm and speed limit-abiding drive to the hospital for delivery? So, we'll just have to see. I guess it could happen that way. Big things in my life don't typically have a lot of build up. I mean, I went 27 years without so much as a boyfriend and then, WA-POW! got engaged not even a year after meeting my husband. My dad totally predicted it would happen like that. In my teenage (and early twenties) angst over the utter lack of romance in my life, my father would always say to me, "Someday a boy will fall so hard for you Mary that it will scare you. And it will all happen so fast, you won't even know what hit you." I didn't believe him, of course, because well, I couldn't imagine such a thing based on my life experiences. I just chalked it up to my dad being a loving dad and trying to make me not feel like a pathetic loser. But he was right. It took FOREVER (27 YEARS!), but it happened just like he said. Thus, I put a lot of faith in my Dad's mystic psychic abilities. And so the fact that my father has predicted that my labor will "come on like gangbusters" has me a little worried. ("Gangbusters" is Dad-speak for "really fast") He was sure it would happen Sunday night. At 6 PM to be exact. Which is why my parents called me at 6, 6:30, 7, 8, and 9 o'clock that night to check. They even packed their bags. And their mind games actually worked at little! I did start contracting around 7. But it didn't develop into anything, obviously (hence this depressing "I will be pregnant forever" post). I had the same kind of hopefulness this morning when I woke up at 4 o'clock just hurting all over. "Could I be in labor?" I wondered. "I don't usually hurt this much." But no, I was simply experiencing the painful existence of a 9 months pregnant woman. And a tired one at that (thank you 4 AM wake-up). Anyway, I'm kind of giving up on the anxious anticipation. It's exhausting to maintain that level of excitement and utterly depressing when I go to bed each night still whale-ishly pregnant. And the heartburn! People! It sucks! This baby has all my organs shoved so far up that if I ever lay all the way down, I can literally feel the gastric juices burning a hole through my esophagus. And I feel totally fat and unattractive. I'm just ready to be done. Do I sound pathetic and miserable enough for you? Don't worry. It's not THAT bad. I'm just wallowing. But come on. I'll be OVERDUE in about three more hours. I deserve to wallow.
In other news . . . oh wait, there IS no other news. I'm just sitting here waiting to go into labor, as I have been for like, a week and a half now. My life is stuck on pause. I'm just so ready people. I want to see and touch and smell my baby already! I'm DYING to know what it is and call it by name. I am impatient to see its sweet baby face and finally be able to share this new little life with my husband. These last few days of waiting are just awful. Five more days at the most. I guess that's soon. But not soon enough.
P.S. Isn't the Jon and Kate thing so sad?! I feel horrible for those kids! But seriously, Jon is such a tool. What is UP with the diamond earrings? He's a 32 year old father of EIGHT. He doesn't get the luxury of rebelling like that! It's embarrassing! Do you even KNOW how hard I would laugh if Jamie ever came home with EARRINGS?! Sure Kate was hard on him and very controlling, but who wouldn't be in that situation? Especially with a limp noodle for a husband? She's the only reason that house didn't exist in total chaos. Her anal retentive methods were the only way they ever managed to do all the amazing things they did with EIGHT kids. I can understand that he would finally want to stand up to Kate, but does that necessarily mean he has to act like an immature party boy, buying expensive cars, going out to bars, and fraternizing with young single women? Couldn't he have just said, "Hey Kate, don't talk to me like that."? Wouldn't that have done the trick without, you know, destroying their reputation and marriage? I mean, come on. He's going to have a hard time explaining his behavior to his kids someday. It's just sad.