Same As It Ever ... Was

What's the sound of exhaustion and frustration that comes after "sigh"?

The highlight of my Thursday was going to pre-natal yoga. Nothing makes you feel like a super-gravid badass like walking into class 41 weeks pregnant and in your third day of labor. The looks and sounds of amazement when I showed up were a much-needed boost.

Class seemed to help, too. After I got home, I started noticing regular contractions again. I didn't time them until after I put Miss M to bed, and then I noticed that they were coming every ... ten minutes! Heyo! I made sure the pattern was holding and then told Cha Cha and The Admiral (who already suspected based on the firm look passing across my face). I kept putting off calling the midwives until I was really, really sure it was staying steady, which meant I ended up waking Amy up at midnight. There still wasn't a ton of intensity to the contractions, and the length was still between 30-60 seconds, but it appeared to be a good, and real, start. Amy said to call back if anything happened - water breaking, span getting shorter or length increasing - and get some rest in the meantime. Which, amazingly, I did. I was excited and optimistic and ready to finally - FINALLY - get things going, but I was also really tired from the three days of constant low-grade activity, so I fell asleep almost immediately.

And then woke up an hour later to Miss M screaming. From her wet bed. The Admiral got up and dealt with getting her cleaned up, and then she crawled into bed with us. On the exact night I was really, really hoping she'd stay in her room and sleep until 8am. I had a surprisingly easy time getting back to to sleep, though, and she actually stayed quiet until 7:45, so it wasn't as rough a night as it could have been.

No, the roughness waited until morning. Waking up and having it hit me, yet again, that another day had passed without having this baby was enough to set off another crying jag. Another day's worth of frustration, worry and disappointment rolled out of me all at once. After a group family hug and some breakfast (we have had two containers of milk expire since my due date, for the record), I was feeling together enough to call Andrea and get the details for the ultrasound/amniotic fluid level test she wanted me to have this morning. It's not so much out of her own concern, but just following the ACOG guidelines in deference to my OB. I'm not really looking forward to spending half the day in a waiting room, but it might be nice to get a good look in there and some assurance that the little guy is doing okay. I could use some good stuff about now.

Update: The ultrasound went smoothly (and surprisingly quickly for a walk-in visit). The baby is doing great and my fluid levels were right on. We snuck a peek at the sonographer's screen when she left the room and it had an estimated fetal weight of 8lbs 4oz, which I don't take as absolute fact but which does coincide with my belief that I've got an 8-pounder in there.

I had a whole different kind of teary outburst when the technician showed us his face. It's a very big change from the alien-baby view you get at 18 weeks. I could discern his features, and see him doing baby things like swallowing and clasping his fingers. It really emphasized what I've been feeling the last couple weeks - I don't even know this baby yet, but damn do I miss him.

Since the ultrasound went so quickly, and happily, we decided to have a quiet, parents-only lunch. We went for Thai and I actually ordered something with a "spicy" asterisk next to it. Plus pineapples. Just so I can cross two more things off of my "stuff that's supposed to cause labor but really doesn't" list.