You know, 41 weeks is not at all an abnormal gestational period. In fact, in France, 41 weeks is considered full term. I feel normal (though extremely uncomfortable!) and the baby is just fine. She apparently loves it in there. I have provided for her an ideal, optimal climate, where she is never cold, doesn’t know what hunger is, is always held close to my heart, which she listens to day and night, and still has the freedom to kick and squirm at her leisure. She enjoys hearing my voice, and music, and is rocked to sleep each day by my walks. Of course, her little head is now bouncing against a softened and effaced and partially dilated cervix, so that’s different, but she doesn’t yet mind enough to decide to evacuate. But soon, she will. Soon!

I am somewhat bored and impatient. It’s tough to really move around much. I haven’t gained any weight in three weeks, but the baby is now positioned so low in my body that she feels like she’s swinging between my thighs (exaggeration). Everything seems go for launch. Just waiting for that one last change in chemistry. I’ve done what I can to inspire her; walking, sex, more walking, bargaining, etc, and been given a few scattered irregular contractions and the loss of the plug. She kicks me firmly each day, which tells me she is in good health, and still has some room in there, so I don’t need to fret that she is “too big.” She has always measured perfectly, in the 50th percentile.

Tomorrow I have another doctor appt, one I had hoped we would not need to attend. They will want to do an ultrasound, and I am considering declining that, as it is basically pointless at this stage. They will ask to sweep my membranes (this is to try to get my water to break), and I will say no. They can listen to her heart, how about that. Maybe do the non-stress test, which is a fetal monitor. They will find out she is normal and fine. They will talk to me about induction, and I will say no, unless they can give me solid evidence that my baby’s health is in decline or in danger. Remember the first sentence of this entry?

I will start to really worry after 42 weeks, but I don’t think it will take that long. I feel changes every day, an increase in discomfort around my womb, stronger (irregular) contractions. They feel like my belly is suddenly tighter, literally contracting its muscles, which soon will force the baby down against the cervix repeatedly, and one centimeter at a time, draw it open for her passage. That is what labor is. The pressure and other chemical/hormonal changes will weaken the amniotic sac and at some point cause it to break. My coworker told me it felt just like a water balloon popping inside her body.

So, I am still pregnant. In the morning I wake up, sit up on my pillows and look down at my bump. “Hi, baby,” I always say, and her little butt moves under my hand.

I don’t have anything planned today except taking another walk in the beautiful perfect fall weather. Oh and I am also going to clean the downstairs (kitchen and living room), albeit slowly, and reward that with a nap and watching the baseball game.

Just got my weekly email from babycenter. It’s all about caring for my one-week-old infant. Because every baby in the world gestates for exactly 38 weeks (+2 when you start with the first day of your last period. It is very unscientific). You know what? Fuck you, babycenter. Unsubscribe.

This morning I woke up just after 3am to pee, as usual, then lay in bed awake. I felt hungry, so I ate some walnuts. Lay down again. Couldn’t sleep. I turned to look at the clock. It was 4:45. I stared at the dark shapes in the room. I listened to Kona on her bed, breathing heavily as though in a dream. I climbed down beside her and pet her soft ears and kissed her head. It hardly seemed worth it to just lay awake anymore, so I put on a sweater and slippers and went downstairs. Dog and cats followed.

I washed all the dishes in the sink, made a cup of tea, and ate a slice of the banana bread I baked last night. Watched “Project Runway” on the Tivo. Despite it being 6:30 now, Kona thought it was playtime, and kept bringing her soft frisbee over to my lap.

Baby is four days “overdue”, which I realize is arbitrary, meaningless, and not worth worrying over. But I am so ready and I wonder what is the holdup, why isn’t she ready, too?

Yesterday morning I lost my mucus plug while in the shower. For those who do not know what that means, the mucus plug is what it sounds like: it’s a thick blob that protects the uterus from bacteria by sealing over the cervix. Well, I looked down while bathing, for whatever reason, and saw this huge yellowish blob on the floor. It was dim in there so at first I didn’t even know what I was looking at and for some reason thought maybe it was a piece of sea sponge that had fallen into the tub. Which is absurd. Before I could investigate further, it had slipped down the drain entirely.

An hour later, there was more, after I used the toilet. Like the novice I am, I wondered if things would start happening within the hour. No, they did not, but losing one’s plug at this late stage is a meaningful sign that labor *could* start in a couple days.

In the afternoon, I went out for coffee with my doula. We went to this great little coffeeshop downtown that I’ve driven past many times. It’s the type of place with carpeted floors and mismatched tables and random funky stuff all over the place. I liked it. Kristina brought her three kids with her, who were all very well behaved and charming. She and I talked about pregnancy and birth stuff, as usual. She makes me feel extremely confident. I just want to get going, I know I can handle whatever nature throws at me, and if not, I know I’ll be okay anyway.

Today is extremely gray and dismal. So much for walking Kona again. I need to be walking, so the best way for me to do that indoors is to do more housework. The master bathroom is pretty gross (to me) at this point, and has been on my to-do list for weeks. Got to clean it up.

I opened up a chapter from my book this morning, too, which I sadly have not looked at in a shamefully long time. So many revisions have taken place in my head since the last time I typed anything, I could just start over from scratch and probably will. Maybe my goal today will be writing a few paragraphs.

The baby will come when she is ready. I am strongly opposed to inducement except in cases of emergency. I am starting to feel a bit pressured and overwhelmed by the constant inquiries and encouragement. The baby cannot hear you. She does not care that we all want to meet her. She will instigate labor at the moment she chooses. Her mama does not want to feel like she is disappointing everyone by not producing a baby in a timely fashion. So please be sensitive to this if any pregnant woman you know has gone past her due date. She wants the baby to come, she is tired of being pregnant, she doesn’t need reminders of this. Maybe she just wants to watch baseball on TV and bake cookies and play with the dog while she waits.

I understand everyone has the best of intentions, of course. But I guess it’s hard to understand how it feels until you’re going through it. “Where is that baby??” She is in my uterus, of course.

Also I am hormonal. Apologies!