Today marks 37 weeks of pregnancy, and the point at which the baby is considered full term. If he were born today, he wouldn’t be considered premature (assuming our dates are precisely correct, which they probably aren’t). That means I made it, friends. If I go in to labor right this very minute (please, please, please), odds are very, very good that everything would be just fine and we’d bring the baby home without incident about 24 hours after he made his debut. In commemoration, here is a picture of my belly:
Oh, might I be standing in our nursery? Which might be just about ready? Yes!
Gifts for you:
We still need to print and hang a few pictures from our maternity photo session (which are now on flickr), likely just right above the changing table/dresser. We had a full-on changing table, but realized that using this unused dresser was far more efficient than trying to find baskets that fit in the shelves under the changing table. The entire top drawer is full of (18) BumGenius diapers. You cannot imagine how thrilling this is for me. As we’re using disposables the first week he’s home, none of the cloth diapers are washed, yet. I’m afraid of commitment, I think. I also spent some time this week making burp cloths, bibs, and cloth wipes. I still need to sew up the seams (my mom’s sewing machine is getting a tune-up), but they’re going to be pretty incredible. How cool is my life? I know.
I actually spent most of last weekend finishing things to be ready for the baby. I bought enough cloth diapers for survival, used our “registry completion” coupon from Target to get the things we didn’t already have, finally reached a decision on a diaper bag and ordered it, and contacted a few etsy sellers about a few last little, more custom-y things (like a waterproof, washable bag in which to put dirty diapers). I also organized the nursery/office. I got a LOT done, actually. I still need to pack for the hospital, but I have already typed out my packing list. We’ve written our birth plan and just want to run it by our Bradley instructor and our midwives. I still need to procure massive quantities of batteries for our swing, bouncer seat, and baby monitor and do a few exchanges and returns (most notably of the pillowcases we’ll be using as sheets on our bassinet mattress).
Our birth plan is almost silly, it’s so short. Our midwives are beyond incredible (if you live around here, go to Pam and Ronda at the Women’s Clinic of North Idaho- you will NOT regret it), and the hospital here operates under a Baby Friendly Mandate (which I believe is through the WHO or something?). Honestly, the birth plan just says not to offer us drugs and tell us before any intervention, both of which our midwives would do anyway. Oh, and to let the umbilical cord stop pulsing before cutting it and to help us keep the birthing room calm and soothing. They seriously, as common practice, do everything we could think of and more. The hospital, as routine, won’t even let the dad hold the baby for the first hour (barring complications), as that time is crucial for skin-to-skin contact between mom and baby for beginning breastfeeding. They won’t let you go home until you’ve met with the breastfeeding consultant and had a couple of successful feedings. Babies also room-in with their families (no central nursery), and most, if not all, checks and such can be performed in the hospital room. We are both absolutely delighted with our delivery set-up. When we read our Damn-Hippie books about birthing and they warn of the risks in hospitals, we almost laugh because ours is so different. It even has a lower C-section rate than most hospitals in the U.S (which currently averages somewhere around 30%, which is obscene), though this is mostly a function of doctors’ decisions.
We’re also excited that several of our pregnant friends are taking Bradley classes. It’s nice to have people in your life who aren’t defaulting to telling you you’re crazy for not getting an epidural the moment you walk through the doors to the hospital. I can’t believe how many people hear I’m planning to go drug-free and basically tell me I’m crazy and can’t do it. Women have done it for millennia, and without the support of highly-trained supports and all of the goods they have in the room for support (Jacuzzi tub, birthing balls, massagers, etc). I think I’ll probably be ok, thanks. Anyway, so knowing that my best friend will be doing the same thing in a few months has been nice. I’m not actually insane, other people are just mean. Hey, if they get to call me crazy, can’t I call them wussy? Isn’t that a fair trade-off? I am over 8 months pregnant; I should be able to get away with being a bit snappy.
I’ve apparently received a nice energy burst, too. Maybe I had a small cold and that’s why I was so crabby and miserable the past couple of weeks? I currently feel awesome. I’m even wearing jeans instead of stretchy pants! It’s a miracle! Not that I’m not ready to get the baby out, don’t get me wrong. Although, actually, it’d be nice, given my class schedule and everything, if he came on or soon after September 4. That should actually be my due date, anyway, as the nurse just guessed at the calendar date at our first appointment, so it’d be a good time for him to be born that day.
Ok. Seriously, I need to stop, this is out of control. Lovies.