So. . . uh. . . let's get this show on the road.
I've just returned from my final ultrasound, where I found out:
a) Pod is official "in position" - which means he is upside down, his still malleable skull right where it needs to be.
b) Pod is 8 lbs 7 oz ALREADY. He will be a big baby. The ultrasound tech called him a "fatty." I wanted to punch her.
c) If you didn't already know, Pod is confirmed as a boy. He's shy to show his face, but he's been showing off his nether proofs of maleness since 20 weeks.
What does this mean?
It means that Pod is ready, launch sequence initiated, and that he and gravity conspire for his emergence with every step I take in an upright position.
It means that I have a nearly 9 lbs bowling ball inside me, pressing down on my bladder and parts.
My sister Nikki, who is back from college in San Luis Obispo, has been driving me and accompanying me to my doctor's appointments lately. My stomach won't fit behind the wheel anymore. We discussed the giant-ness of the Pod and how "excited" everyone is.
"It's hard for me to be excited," I said, "I'm more terrified."
"Ha ha," she said, "TEAR-ified."
I slapped her on the arm. Hard.
I'm not afraid of motherhood or raising a child. But this giant baby, and getting him safely out of his uterus apartment without busting myself open - yes, I am tear-ified.
My gestational diabetes is under control, thanks to a very strict diet and constant blood sugar monitoring. So I was able to escape having to shoot myself up with insulin - which the internist had initially told me that he was "80-90% sure" I was going to have to do.
Many thanks to Sylvie - my college roommate, friend and nutritionist - who not only helped to recommend many tasty and diabetes-friendly food choices, but who also sent me a care package of sugar-free/low-carb treats.
So, in 9 days or so, July 12th. ( My actual due date is July 18th, but because Pod is so big already, the doctor advised we induce labor one week early. Which originally would have been July 11th, but he's not on call that day, so now it's July 12th)
The hospital will call me as early as 5am on July 12th to let me know when to come in. They tell you on that day, and no sooner, what time they are ready for you.
With my packed bag of clothes, toiletries, music, etc., we will take the 5 minute drive from my mom's house to the hospital.
Park the car, close the door, heart beating fast.
Walk through the doors. Check in. Get my room, as if checking into a hotel.
Wait for the doctor. They'll start me on an IV I guess. More waiting. Maybe an enema so I don't poop the delivery table.
The doctor checks to see how dilated my cervix is. If I'm not already well on my way (need to be 10 cm dilated I think, to deliver),
they'll "stick something inside me" to help "ripen my cervix." Ahem. Then we wait.
I'll make sure my eyebrows and lipstick are done. Then have one of my sisters braid my hair. Have my mp3 player at the ready with a continuous mix of music and meditations. Try to laugh. Record some video footage. Stay chill.
And when I am dilated enough, they start the pitocin to induce my uterine contractions.
Then that's where I hear the "Fun" begins. The pushing, the huffing and puffing, the not pushing, the expanding, the everything that you see in the movies.
Until, until . .. . . .
The entire time my intention is to maintain psychic link with Pod, to help guide him from his safe little haven and into the light as best I can.
More thoughts soon. Might as well write it all out to help me cope with the anxiety. Wrangle it all into words and thoughtforms, create neural pathways of how I want the experience to be - as much as I can control is all in my own head. .
Always with more love,
Carmen - the Incubatrix