The home stretch

Monday will mark 37 weeks of pregnancy, which will officially designate Cletus as a full-term baby. We're no longer counting months, but weeks, even days, until the due date. Weekly visits to the OB/GYN began this week, and he believes I may deliver a week to week-and-a-half prior to the due date. Of course, that is an experienced and educated conjecture, but my cervix is already 50% effaced or thinned, and the baby has dropped somewhat and her head, at -1 station, is approaching the delivery point ("zero station" is the standard, and +5 is the crowning point). The dilation, or opening/stretching of the cervix, hasn't happened yet, but that's fine as long as the effacement is happening.

What can we do now besides wait? There are all sorts of myths and "old wive's tales" about how to stimulate labor: do a lot of walking; eat spicy foods; drink castor oil; etc. I might walk more, but I have always done a fair share of exercising. Spicy foods are a staple of my diet, so there wouldn't be much of a difference. Castor oil is gross and would probably just give me diarrhea. The only clinically-substantiated link is to act like kinky newlyweds, and that is actually what the doctor prescribed, although he didn't phrase it in exactly that manner.

All I want for Christmas is...

...not to go past my due date! With one month to go now until January 23, and just over one week until Cletus is considered "full-term" at 37 weeks, I am feeling really pregnant. I have an overstretched, shape-shifting mass of an abdomen and feet that could pass for a hobbit's if they were hairy, but I'm not complaining (at least not in an excessively whiny way).

If I have to hear my father say one more time that the baby will be born one week later, coinciding with my birthday, I'll just dive right into the tray of homemade cookies and divinity and send myself into a sugar buzz. However, if the labor follows my cycle, the later date may prove to be the case. Webhamster tells me that he's always had to walk on eggshells around me when the moon is waning, so it's looking like new moon time, which is New Year's Eve or January 29-30. Nurse friend Ginger added to the new moon theory last night. Was it her granny or a nursing instructor who told her that many women tend to go into labor around a new moon?

I had it in my mind that a full moon was a time when a lot of women went into labor simultaneously. Maybe I'm thinking of werewolves because the new "Underworld" movie will soon be released. Given Cletus's past enthusiastic responses to action movies, a little vampire vs. werewolf action could go a long way.

Let the due date wagering and two-cents placement commence.

Thar she blows

Thirty-four weeks into the pregnancy, and we have spotted the great white whale.

Audience discretion is advised; some of you more sensitive types may be shocked or offended. Yes, edema has set in, adding, I swear, at least five pounds to my legs, ankles, and feet, which are now like a hobbit's without all the hair. You can even see the sock cuff imprint on my puffy ankles.

The side view is especially remarkable when you compare it to earlier pregnancy photos, in which the one on the left shows me at three months pregnant and the one on the right represents six months. I'll have to check with Webhamster to find out what happened to some of the other interim pics.

The head-on view is a little cuter. Some of you may notice that Cletus is presenting in a similar shape to the Hostile "Furtive Explorations" alien.

I'd like to think I'm a brave soul for posting this going-on-eight-months pregnancy photo.

On parenting small domestic mammals

Two recent posts, one on Webhamster's blog, and the other on Kim's, have reminded me of all of the "parenting training" I have experienced raising three medium-large dogs and a mischievous Siamese. Sure, one key difference is that we can kennel the dogs and leave the cat home (with someone feeding her once a day) when we need to get away for a few days. But, other than that, I swear I cannot turn my back on the animals for much longer than 15 seconds.


Kim mentioned that she practically spent an entire day last week uttering only, "No Zack!" and "Pebbles, no!" to her son and dog.As posted by the beloved hubby, Pixie Cat has been eating curling ribbon and other festive holiday adornments and hacking them up or pooping them out around the house. I swear she drank tree water, too, and attempted to climb the tree seeking wildlife friends and other chewables. The dogs, on the other hand, seem keenly attuned to my hormonal shifts. I really think that they sense Baby Cletus's arrival is impending. Kit-Kit, the ringleader, has been especially clingy, following me everywhere, and has been "misbehaving" in order to get extra attention. I won't go into too many details, but she has been defiantly relieving herself to express her mood.

Life imitates "art"

It's deer season here in southern Illinois, so the deer are running more than usual. On the way home from work on Thursday evening, my mother and a doe collided. Fortunately, both Mom and deer left the scene of the accident reasonably intact, with the exception of a little patch of fur on the driver door. As Webhamster says, "It's a good thing your mother tends to drive like a grandmother (though not his, who just may have inspired Sammy Hagar)." Of course, the next day at work, all of the employees were singing "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" to my mother.

Playing the pregnancy card

I pulled the card out of my wallet and practically maxed it out this week, and I'm not talking about Visa. I'm not the first woman to play the pregnancy card to her advantage. Perhaps I should feel a bit of guilt, but I just couldn't help myself. Maybe the hormones have made me more assertive?

Just yesterday morning, I arrived at the Post Office at 10:59, maybe 11:00 a.m., as one of the clerks was locking the door for the Saturday closing time. There were still several people inside. I was there to send a Christmas gift to the Webhamster's granny in Arizona. The man said, "Sorry ma'am, we're closed." With exasperation, I replied, "Please...I'm pregnant and I just lugged this heavy box all the way in here. It's Priority Mail flat-rate, so it'll just take a sec to print the label." He looked at my belly and said, "Come on in." JEDI MIND TRICK!

Then, yesterday afternoon we took a break before hunting down the perfectly fat, fresh holiday tree and went to the Indian restaurant in Carbondale. They were only serving the buffet for lunch, but we really wanted to order from the menu. I asked the waiter/proprietor, "We really prefer to have our food very spicy, and I know you have to keep it more plain for local tastes. Could we please order from the menu? The baby really wants it!" Maybe it was the pregnancy factor, or maybe it was because he was so pleased that someone wanted properly-seasoned Indian food--he and I both used the word "bland" in referring to how most people around here like it--but he took our order and attended to us graciously.