Aaaand, we wait.
That's what the husband and I are doing. Waiting. This baby could come tomorrow. This baby could come in 2 weeks. This baby could find herself coming at the hands of some pitocin if my blood pressure even sneaks so much as a peek at the party going on the other side of the fence. I have two doc appointments this week to keep an eye on things. The nuggette is doing great, which is the best part of this craziness. So, for now, we wait.
The quick update from my last doctor visit confirmed that bed rest is working, so that's what I'll be doing until she gets here. It absolutely foiled my original plans to work right up until the end-- saving as much leave time as possible. But, as the finish line draws close, I realize that I wasn't really well-equipped to work up until 40 weeks, anyway. I had such an easy pregnancy for the first 8 and a half months, I figured why wouldn't I work right up until I go into labor? Women do it all the time. People would ask me when I was going to stop working, and I would honestly say that I had no plans to do any such thing.
My waddle makes me look like I sprained something in my back. I'm swollen. And I have suddenly turned into a blast furnace. The poor husband is freezing in his own home as I challenge our AC to do the impossible; make me comfortable. I swear, if you could bottle it, I put off enough heat energy to launch the next shuttle mission.
Thankfully, my bed rest isn't the "stay in bed all day and don't you dare move" bed rest that some ladies get. Especially because the husband comes to all the doc visits and is The Enforcer of every last little thing the doctor says. I can't get away with anything. I got caught hoisting a small table out of the way and you would have thought I was doing 110 pound fast-rep squats at the gym. The Enforcer put a stop to that.
The doc just told me to use my common sense while at home and try to spend a few hours in the morning and then again in the evening laying down resting on my left side. And she told me I could take my sanity-saving walks... as long as I go slow (Um, have you seen me lately? Not a problem.) and I avoid the hottest parts of the day, which also isn't a problem since I pretty much hate the sun along with anything else that makes me hot, like Johnny Depp and spicy food.
But you know who has been bed resting with me? The mutt. No joke. She decided to forgo her "please let me spend as many hours as possible outside so I can stalk birds" routine and instead opted to hang out with me inside. Sleeping. In positions I can only describe as horribly uncomfortable looking. Judge for yourself.