38 Weeks

I know I said I wasn't going to blog again, but I've actually had a few confused friends because of some loose ends I left on the last blog. So this will be short and sweet. I'll even use bullet points.

• I have officially been relinquished and banned from using the term "High Blood Pressure" in my OB's presence, under threat of public ridicule. I have been officially diagnosed with white coat syndrome, and when my blood pressure is taken manually, it's even considered borderline low. I have been assured that there is absolutely nothing to fear when it comes to pre-eclampsia, or even gestational hypertension. There's been blood work and multiple urinalysis tests to confirm those results. It's such a huge weight off of my shoulders, and so comforting to know that I truly know my body. The wonky readings I had a few weeks ago have been attributed to stress and taking it too many times in a short period of time. Basically, my OB laughed out loud when I told him the "elevated" numbers I was experiencing and said "I think my resting blood pressure is higher than that." SO, that scare is over.

• This baby is content where he is. I was so convinced that he was going to come early, but the contractions and symptoms of labor are far too sporadic to even convince the doctor to check me. We have a C-Section scheduled, and he told me that if I went into labor before then, Jesus was going to return. It's basically just what every pregnant woman wants to hear at 38 weeks and miserable, obviously. There's no medical reason to induce, despite all of my suggestions to sway his judgment. I am officially the most pregnant I've ever been, and it's so, so hard to keep a good attitude when I'm almost a week past the point of my last delivery. I was initially fine with him staying in a little longer, because Ella, but I'm just done. I've tapped out. I'm trying so hard to get out of the house and make the days go by a little faster, but I think it's just going to feel like the longest wait of my life any way we do it. But the end really is near. Truly.

• Why yes, those are the baggiest sweatpants in the world featured in my bump picture. The elastic on my jeans finally gave out after 38 weeks of holding on, and this cheapo isn't about to drop a ridiculous amount of money on more pants. This is probably a good thing, because I always have the hardest time letting go of my maternity pants. They're like real life spanx. And I was still wearing my maternity shorts when Ella was almost one, because they're not super short and don't require me to dance into them. Those are both great attributes in shorts.

I think that's all. This really will be my last blog. Here in a couple of weeks, the clock will run out and this baby will be evicted. And I'll probably be sappy and sentimental about never feeling a baby wiggle around my belly again... but right now, my ligaments and bladder have suffered enough abuse for 38 weeks, and they're letting me know that it's time. It's time. Bring me that horizon. Take me to the place where babies are birthed. Bring on double diapers. Forget about sleep. I want the baby toes and cheeks to chew on. These are a lot of really short and incomplete sentences. Sorry, fellow grammarites. If it's any consolation, I'm saying most of them in a "Jack Sparrow" accent, and exclamation points would probably be better suited for the ends of the thought, but that would imply that I have energy, and I just really try to keep things real on this blog. 

Until the end, my friends.