My due date has now come and gone and this little lady is still holding out on us. I'm sensing she may be a diva who will live up to the mantra of being fashionably late...
Week 39 of my pregnancy came and went with a vengance. Packing and the logistics of moving have been taking over my brain and all my energy. Who knew I would have to do a change of address for nearly thirty different accounts?
A more minimalistic life may be in our future.
My contractions are now becoming more frequent and neither sitting or standing is comfortable--a real connumdrum I now face.
Hunk has been amazing through it all. He comes home at night and packs the truck, goes to work, unpacks the trunk and then we start the whole process over again. It become very ritualistic to us now.
Emotions, however, have been riding high. Our hospital cannot perform inductions on VBAC's so if the baby doesn't come in the next two days on her own I am scheduled for a C-Section on Friday--a decision I have been adamantly against, but we are really left with no other options.
The thought of not actually being able to give birth to a child was something I always took for granted until now. I try not to think about it too much because the thought of missing out on one of the most personal and intimate moments of motherhood is too much to ruminate over right now.
Let's just hope I can whip out some extra jump jacks in the next two days and that she'll decide to finally grace us all on her own.
Here's to wishful thinking, eh?