Our Little Man?....Not So Little.

After being told that baby boy could make an appearance within hours (or weeks), Husband and I came home from the hospital and focused on finishing up the last few things on our baby "to do" list. A trip to Target rounded out the last supplies we needed (wipes, baby lotion, and a glow worm--all totally necessary items) and we made sure our bags were packed with the items we absolutely could not do without. The day after our adventure in the hospital we arrived at our doctor's office, eager to see if there had been any change and to get a peek at our little guy and determine if he was in the right position.

Unfortunately, our appointment left us disappointed. There were no doctors available to see us, so we have agreed to have a midwife do the exam--we prefer doctors, but we figured in this case a midwife would be able to tell us what we needed to know. Then we found out I was going to be seen by a midwife resident--who I'm sure is fully qualified, but she wasn't prepared for a visit that was outside the ordinary 37 week visit, which ours definitely was.

She couldn't tell us where the baby was positioned, and couldn't tell if I was dilated because she didn't want to make me more uncomfortable than I already was. I felt like flicking her on the nose and telling her to heck with my discomfort and figure out what was going on, but I did not. As she walked out the door, she told us brightly, "well, go home and if you have the baby tonight, we'll know you were dilated!"

(For the record: I know having a baby is an imprecise art. I know there are no ways, outside of a scheduled C-section, to be able to tell when a baby will arrive. But please, PLEASE--don't say something like that to a woman who is 9 months pregnant, swollen all over and contracting every 10 minutes. Especially if you're a resident who doesn't even have an MD and has never had a baby. It will not be received well.)

So we headed home with no news to tell and an ultrasound appointment for the next morning. The ultrasound tech immediately put our C-section fears to rest as our son came into view on the little computer screen--head down, bum aimed towards my right arm, little feet on the left. We saw his little heart pumping away, could count toes and fingers, and saw that he was practicing "breathing" with his diaphragm--all good signs that he was happy and healthy. We got a nice shot of his profile, and the tech said he has chubby cheeks (I have no idea how she could tell). She took his measurements and plugged them into her fancy algorithm to estimate how much he weighs.

"Looks like he's at...oh," she paused when she saw the number. "7 pounds, 2 ounces. That's a big baby."

A big baby indeed! He's about a pound over the high end of average for his age. If he stays until he's full term, we could be looking at a baby who will check into this world at over 9 pounds.

And, despite the contractions that are still coming regularly and the other end-of-pregnancy discomforts, he seems quite content to stay where he is. Instead of obsessing over when he will make his appearance, I am trying to enjoy the time with Husband while it's still the two of us, put all the finishing touches on the nursery, and relax while I can.

Let the waiting game begin!