Last Hurrah (I hope)--37 weeks

Well, I'm officially full term, and that's what it looks like. Pete made me retake the shot because I wasn't smiling, but I'm afraid this is all I could muster.

As of now, I'm 80% effaced and 2 cm dilated, which could mean anything--it could be hours, it could be weeks. I've been trying to get things moving by clomping up stairs and driving over potholes, but to no avail. On Tuesday, November 4, I'm scheduled to have my membranes stripped , which could mean a baby within 24 hours (I've already voted, for all concerned). My doctor said the baby's head is hanging low (and in fact, she's tapped it on the head a couple times, which resulted in a kick for me), so she thinks that stripping will do the trick. At this point, I'm game for anything.

I'm guessing the next update will be an introduction, so stayed tuned!

The Case of the Missing Beast--33 weeks

I've been a little delinquent on my blogging duties, I know, but I have to blame it on my temperamental digital camera. I have all sorts of delicious photos of fat me, but I can't share unless my camera cooperates. I'll give you all the benefit of the doubt and believe that you'll read a post without any pictures.

For all beast-followers, some exciting news: apparently a softball-sized lump buried in your tissue can get up and walk away. After two (lengthy) ultrasounds, neither an ultrasound tech nor a perionatal specialist has been able to locate the original beast. You may remember that a second, smaller (well, orange-sized) beast was found up and away in a different spot; however, it is now popularly believed that this second beast is actually the first beast in a vacation spot. What this means is that 1) the beast has shrunk from softball to orange, 2) there's still only one beast, and 3) the beast is no longer blocking the baby's exit. This means that a c-section is no longer a foregone conclusion (and now I have license to be scared). I assumed I could waltz in and waltz out without the hassle of labor, pushing or ickiness. That's all changed.

Now, speaking of baby--I don't mean to put him/her out of the spotlight--you all may remember I mentioned that it is a bruiser. Well, bruiser appears to be an understatement. Yesterday's measurements calculated a 6 pound, 3 ounce baby in me. May I remind you I still have 6 weeks to go. At a gain of a half a pound a week, this puts me on track for at least a 9 pound baby! Our baby is already bigger than Pete was at birth (delicate little Pete was a 5 pounder). My mom reminded me that I was 8.14, so I shouldn't be so snobby about the giant babies. Perhaps the baby will come out already walking and speaking, so that will make my goal of intellectual achievement even more attainable. And, if it turns out that he or she is not that bright, she'll be big enough to beat the crap out of everyone.

Thanks for giving me your attention span--I'll work on getting those photos from my camera. I assure you, I'm not hiding. I have been lucky enough to avoid swelling, veins, and some of the other unsavorable parts of pregnancy so far, but as I mentioned before, I have six weeks to go...