After measuring my life in weeks for months, I'm ready to start being one of those annoying people who measures their kid's life in months. As in the classic: "My kid is 24 months old." Do you mean, you have a two-year-old? Seriously though - I'm ready to stop being pregnant and start being a mom.
I found out that Dr. W is a politician - and a democrat. This guy just keeps getting better and better! I also had some patient-guilt because I didn't go back to my original doctor (remember, she went on maternity leave in the middle of my pregnancy). I found out that I am one of two patients who didn't go back to her - ugh, more guilt!
The baby is now the size of a watermelon - yicks. S/he is now able to flex their limbs, and his/her nails might extend past his fingertips. Gross. Fingernails? Baby, the time has come. You've moved on from developing vital organs to growing fingernails? Come on, a lot of people really want to meet you and I promise, your fingernails will grow the rest of your life. Am I really pleading with my unborn child, yes, yes I am.
For the past few hours I've had steady contractions, which could mean labor is just around the corner - or it's just another case of Braxton Hicks (faux contractions).
Last week Dan informed me that "Maybe I don't know what contractions feel like" while I was in the middle of complaining about my uncomfortableness. If we were in a cartoon - I would have turned fire-engine red and smoke would have shot out from my ears. I kindly informed him that I do "know what they feel like" and wanted to stab him for not having a uterus.
Now, I want to eat my words (what else is new...) because these contractions feel like something else and I should probably stop typing and start timing them!