Don't call us, but labor has started. But don't call us.

Don't call us. But my water broke. (This is only getting blogged because my PC was still on while the Search For Waterproofing the Bed Materials is going on.) Don't call us if you're one of the crazies who is still awake. Don't call us if you want to know if we went to the birth center. I've talked to the midwife on duty and since I'm not having contractions I can't speak through yet, I'm not going to the birth center yet. I've got an appointment at 11AM if I don't show up earlier than that.

So (don't call us) we're going to try and go back to sleep. Don't call us.

If you're pregnant or considering being pregnant, a waterproof mattress pad might not be a bad investment once you reach the "water might break" stage.

And I think it's pretty damn funny that my water broke some time after midnight on the kid's due date. This kid may be one of the few who shows up on its due date, but we'll see.

At last! Something to report.

We had an official sign of prelabor this morning, which is potentially TMI so here for the curious: bloody show.

But it was serious enough that I called the birth center to make sure it was just prelabor and nothing more. The midwife said this was a great sign of progress; enjoy my normal day, eat, rest and stay hydrated. (It's still hot here.) I can swim all I want.

"Boy, that baby might come right on time," she said. Might is the operative word in that sentence. Active labor could still be three days or weeks away. But it is officially a-coming.

I'm currently uploading the last of my major files to work. I have two emails to send and then I will officially be done with work.

Other blatherings: Tim Gunn is still a cupcake although I don't know what the judges were thinking on the latest Project Runway. And if you're not watching Morgan Spurlock's 30 Days series, well, what's wrong with you? It's so rare to see reality TV that treats its participants with respect.

Updates for Those Who Can't Stand a Lack of Updates

No baby yet. No labor yet. No unmistakable signs of labor yet.

I'm sitting around the house wrapping up the last stupid tasks of my job, surfing the web, watching TV, and reading. Mistah C is having foot problems so I'm hoping he gets over that before labor.

I'm not impatient but it seems like other people are.

Prenatal Visit, Week 39

The rain stopped. Sigh.

This morning, we had our Week 39 visit. The kid's head is way down (so maybe it's dropped although I certainly couldn't say that it had). Everything's good: blood pressure, glucose, protein, weight, fetal heartrate (120 to 130, which seems slow to me), and fundal height (38 cm).

We talked about having a pelvic exam next week, which we may or may not do, depending if I want to. I'm still undecided. We talked a bit about labor. I am still in, "Well, let's labor at home for as long as possible then go in and do whatever works," mode. They'd like me to do kick counts, which means that I have to make sure the kid moves 10 times within one hour each day. That will be right after the ice cream hour. The kid's so active that I'm not concerned.

My pinkies being numb is just inflammation caused by the excessive amount of fluids I have right now and is normal. It should go away once the pregnancy's over.

Past 40 weeks, we start having to have non-stress tests and whatnot, so next week we'll have to start talking about natural methods of inducing, which I really don't want to do. I'm still pretty sure the kid will pick the right day.

Yay rain!

It's raining here right now, beautifully wet clean-smelling rain. I'm sure it won't last long, but it's wonderful right now.

Record High Weather and It's All My Fault

Yah, you betcha. It was 99°F yesterday here (a record over the past high of 87°F) in our little corner of the world and it was DAMN hot. I'm sure this is because I am pregnant and set to simmer anyway. It's been hot here like it is in the East. You shower, towel off, and you're sweaty again. It's that hot.

We went out yesterday to the best hardware store in gay ol' Hillcrest and found an ionizing tower fan for downstairs (we had one for our bedroom at night, but it was just getting ridiculous). Mistah C and I are now in love with the fan. Poems are being composed by the hour to the joys of sitting on our asses in front of the TV with the fan going. Example:

The couch is dampened--
Let us turn the fan to three
With this here clicker.

I didn't say they were good poems.

Anyway, yesterday was T's birthday (oh, we can blame him for the heat!) and we saw the One Man Star Wars Trilogy, which is fabulous if you're a little Star Wars fangirl like me. Happily, I think Terry is a big Star Wars geek too. Watching someone do all three movies in under an hour is damn funny. If you don't know the films backwards and forwards, I'm not sure you'd enjoy it, but if you do, then let me tell you to make sure you see it when he's in town. There's a good balance of plot and editorializing, although he was funny enough I would have liked more editorializing.

I got to play the "I'm more pregnant than you are" game in the bathroom after the show with a woman who's due in two weeks. I won.

But seeing the show was the last scheduled thing I've got pre-kid that I needed to not be in labor for. My last day of work before maternity leave is Friday and I still have a couple things to wrap up, but they're not huge disgusting things.

Last night, I don't know if I woke up with a contraction or if I was awake and noticed I had a contraction, but I had a contraction. Honestly, I thought to the kid, "No, not today. Today is not your birthday; it's too damn hot and you can wait a couple more days to be fully-cooked. I don't want to do this right now, so just chill out." I don't know why that was my gut response, but there it was. I just wanted to go back to sleep. I didn't tell Mistah C since I thought we'd never get back to sleep waiting around for another contraction. I didn't have another one and I'm not in labor yet, so there you go.

The only disturbing thing is that my pinkies keep going numb. When I woke up last night, I noticed it on my right hand and thought I had slept funny and cut off circulation, but both pinkies are still tingly today. It's just my pinkies and they don't appear to be blue or any other color than the rest of my hands, so I'm thinking it's nerves and wondering if I'm finally having some inflammation issues. We've got a midwife appointment tomorrow, so I'll ask about it then.

I have to go back to sitting on my ass in front of the TV. Excuse me.

Swimming is great!

After work yesterday, I went swimming. The pool is not very deep at all (5 feet in the deep end) but it is fabulous. I had it all to myself. Getting in was a little strange because my center of gravity is off. Doing the breaststroke while pregnant is difficult. Floating on my back was great, but I made sure to spend an equal amount of time with my belly down so the kid had the opportunity to float free of my pelvis. (Having the kid float free of the pelvis is supposed to be good for labor and positioning, yadda yadda, plus the kid's big enough now not to somersault into breech, at least we hope so.)

Getting out was the shocker. Stepping out of the water, the kid suddenly felt quite heavy, boom.

I think I'll be going swimming again. Today: I get my hair cut. We're getting to the last of my scheduled appointments pre-kid.

Is it Friday yet?

No, just Thursday. Sigh. Today's goal is to go swimming.

Mistah C and I had a lovely dinner with our friends from CO last night (well, the table we got was awful and the service was not stellar, but the company was grand). I wish we'd gotten more time to see them. Happily, one of them is going to be living not too far from the swanky dessert place so now I'm sure we'll be visiting him often.

I have moved on in my reading from babydom to childrearing, although I do have non-baby books to read as well. Pregnancy things are popping up where I least expect them. The latest O magazine has an article about how the number one cause of death in pregnant women is homicide. I thought Mistah C was going to cut it out of my copy so I couldn't read it (which was going to send me into hormone-laden feminista "You are not possibly trying to tell me what I can and cannot read," frenzy). I'd like to see a Freakonomics-style breakdown of those statistics, though. The article was heavily based on the fact that 1/3 of all murdered preggos are done in by someone they know, but what's going on with the other 2/3s?

Work news: My boss finally set up a meeting with me to meet "the latest team member" tomorrow but scheduled it during the only appointment I have this week. Let me check my Outlook calendar to make sure my appointment is on there. Yes, it is. Let me find my clue-by-four. Yup, I'll be polishing up the old resume soon.

I almost forgot!

The most important thing that comes up in my brain nowadays: is there anyone impervious to the charms of Tim Gunn?

I am taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in seeing Tim in ads for Project Runway 3. I have TiVo; I don't watch ads. I watch Tim, though. He's a cupcake.

Scatterbrained

I am literally all over the place mentally these days. Here's flotsam and jetsam of my brain:

• I'm sick of work. The fact that my new boss hasn't bothered to introduce me to the newest member of the team (who started Monday) pretty much tells me I had better get my resume into tip-top shape and be ready to jump ship.
  
• Riders on the Tour for the last five years have been motivated by either helping Lance Armstrong or beating Lance Armstrong (or being Lance Armstrong). Without Lance, many of the teams look lost for strategy. But I haven't caught up after the second mountain day so maybe someone took charge.
  
• Our cats are loopy but at least they don't look like Hitler.
  
• Being irritated by work did motivate me to file my pregnancy disability claim. Now I just wait for the paperwork.
  
• Photos of naked babies in Santa hats are tacky.
  
• People who recommend, "There was a star danced, and under that was I born," as a quote to put on their baby announcements haven't read Much Ado About Nothing. The first part of the quote is "My mother cried." Well, maybe they're advertising the vast amount of pain their mothers were in during labor.
  
• My books don't fit in our bookcases. The next house is going to have floor-to-ceiling bookcases everywhere.
  
• Shopping for pregnancy swimsuits is worse than shopping for regular swimsuits. The sun is beginning to shine so we'll see if I can get a quick dip today.
  
• I am eagerly awaiting a box of books from Amazon that will give me something non-baby to read.
  
• I need to clean my office.

Backache and Pizza

The problem with being 38+ weeks pregnant is that anything happens and I wonder if I'm in labor. Backache - am I in labor? Twinge in neck - let me check the books; this might be an obscure sign of labor.

Last night I had bad cramps in my lower back. I was determined to ignore the cramps because I was reading but eventually gave in to some gentle stretching exercises, which helped. If I feel any lower back pain, my first question is, "Is this back labor?" There's been a rash of back labor in our class. The books say lower backache may be a sign of prelabor that can happen anywhere from days to weeks before labor but it could also just be a backache.

But the books also say the whole last month of pregnancy is a latent labor period where things are happening even if I can't perceive them happening. I'm resigning myself to the fact that when I go into (active) labor, I'll just have to trust that I know I'm in (active) labor.

More importantly, we found proper NY style pizza last night, the kind that's flat enough to get folded in half. Plus, we're going to have a little CO get-together tomorrow night, so that will be super.

Prenatal Visit, Week 38 or so

This week's visit was a little anticlimactic. The kid hasn't arrived; I haven't had any more significant Braxton-Hicks contractions. Everything (weight, glucose, protein, fetal heartrate, fundal height) is on track.

My midwife told me to get in a pool if I could, which is funny because the pool keys for our apartment complex arrived this weekend. The problem: a swim suit. The cheap Scotch in me (ancestry, not booze*) makes me wonder about the wisdom of buying a maternity bathing suit two weeks before my due date; the cynic in me says that just the act of buying a (non-returnable) bathing suit will be enough to send me into labor. Maybe I'll hit Target and see if they've got anything on clearance.

It's been hot here and being pregnant doesn't help that. The kid's taking up a lot of room, so I'm trying to remember to eat smaller meals more often. Having said that, I'm still not sick of being pregnant. I'm not horribly uncomfortable; the kid is doing great. I don't know if I'll ever be pregnant again. I have faith the kid will pick its proper birthday when it's ready. There's no point in being impatient. Besides, there are some of you who can be impatient for me!

At this point, it could be any time. It still doesn't feel that way to me. I'm not cleaning walls yet, either, for those of you watching for nesting behaviors. We missed the full moon, a supposed labor-inducer, and we thankfully get to keep our anniversary for our greedy selves (even though I'm sure we would have loved two celebrations on the same day, blah blah whatever).

We met with friends of ours from birth class over the weekend and met their baby, who is a cutie. (Other babies do get cuter as the odds of having your own improve - consider it 400% more estrogen's little gift.) They pointed us towards a breastfeeding supply store associated with one of the local hospitals. Mistah C and I went there Sunday and it was super. They even have a scale in the store, which is the mark of people who understand breastfed baby needs. We'll probably be going back there 7-10 days after birth for any supplies that seem relevant post-baby.

We have heard rumor there is a contingent of CO people in town this week, so that will be this week's excitement (at least, the known excitement). Past that, it's just work work work. I'm just "documenting my job" now, so at least nobody's hounding me.

* Besides, any of you who know Mistah C know that any Scotch in this house is ridiculously expensive single malt Scotch with tongue-twisting names. But that's irrelevant since I haven't touched a single soft cheese, piece of sushi, or drop of booze since the two pink lines showed up.

Anniversary Hiatus

Mistah C and I celebrated our wedding anniversary yesterday by taking the day off to bum around with each other. The kid enjoyed Pirates (as did Mistah C and me). I would also like to praise Roy's Hawaiian Fusion Cuisine for having such lovely food and exceptional service.

Since our anniversary was post-full-term, both of us had been loathe to make any reservations or expensive plans (like theater tickets). Last night we decided to hit Roy's after checking the menu against the FDA's guidelines for mercury/fish consumption for pregnant women. They had a macademia-nut crusted mahi mahi that would probably be safe as long as I didn't eat more than six ounces of it.

We get to Roy's and find out that the macademia-nut crusted fish of the day is a mercury-laden no-no for preggos. We were hoping to eat the fixe prix menu for a smattering of tastes; the other entree choices are shortribs (not what I wanted to eat in my one nice white shirt) and salmon (which I got too much of working catering during college and as such haven't been able to enjoy since). I explain to the waiter that I'm pregnant and concerned about the mercury levels; could I get a substitution of mahi for the white fish of the day? He says probably not, then goes off and checks with the chef. He can for a substitution fee, which is more than reasonable.

The kid liked the mahi; the kid got hiccups halfway through the entree course that did not stop until I was done with dessert (a sinfully delicious chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce). I ate way too much and ended up feeling the sickest I've felt during the entire pregnancy. It was a blessed relief when I woke up at 2AM and realized I no longer felt like a force-fed goose ready for pate slaughter.

But the food was so delicious. The service was impeccable. I think I probably would have eaten less if I hadn't felt like the kitchen had bent over backwards to accomodate me. I probably don't need to eat much today. But the whole experience was excellent and I highly recommend Roy's for dinner if you've got one nearby.

Can I let the baby smoke every day or just on holidays?

It's a bad moment during baby care class when one of your classmates reports being dropped on her head as a child and you have to stifle a laugh because you had already guessed something had happened to her.

We went to baby care class Tuesday night. If you have an IQ above a carrot's and are considering a baby care class by these people, get a book and read it. Then take the extra $ leftover from the $20 you would have spent on a baby care class and go to In-n-Out. Have a shake and some good fries.

The directions to the class location were so poor that we walked all the way around the hospital. We found four other couples who were also lost. Finally, a nice hospital educator adopted our pack of preggos (I reminded her of an RN friend of hers) and walked us back to where Mistah C and I parked and said, "That building there." It's called the Administration Building on the directions, but everyone onsite calls it the Orcutt Building. This seems like a minor thing, but when you're asking everyone and their dog for directions to the Administration Building, it's critical. All of us are 15 minutes late.

The instructor greets us at the door with a very friendly, "But I already have everyone on my list, and I don't have enough babies or handouts for you all. And some of you are going to have to stand." None of the women I'm with are in the early stages of pregnancy, so the standing news goes over well. Mistah C and I have been signed up for this class since March. My keen sense of customer service tells me I'm in the hands of a master.

We find places around the corners of the room; thankfully, all the preggos get a seat, although one of the dads is still standing when the dust settles. The instructor (wearing a big oaktag circle that says Sharon) is extremely distressed at having to hand over her example baby doll to a preggo woman. Sharon is about 200 years old and has been teaching this class since before there were babies.

The class consists of watching video tapes from the 80s. They are warped to the point of being almost incomprehensible; the sound is ear-splitting. The one in progress when we enter is about bathing the baby. Some of the advice given in the film is wrong, like swabbing around the base of the cord with rubbing alcohol every time you diaper the baby. All the instructor is there for is to tell us when the film's advice had become outdated.

There's a break not long after we arrive. I get the last packet of info. It's all put together by sponsors - Johnson & Johnson, Kaiser Permanente, etc. It's not anything I haven't seen before. We also get a copy of "San Diego Parents" magazine, which is filled with ads for bounce houses and princess parties for our darling child's birthday. During the break, we're supposedly going to "rearrange the room so everyone can fit." Not so much. Mistah C and I spend the rest of the class along the wall under the TV sets. There are 16 couples in the room; each paying $20 a couple. You'd think they could have had enough chairs.

All controversial issues were glossed over or not mentioned. When we got to the "how should baby sleep?" moment, there wasn't even a mention of co-sleeping (or the controversy about co-sleeping). There are no discussions on how used cribs and mattresses are linked to SIDS. When discussing meconium, Sharon says, "They're messy; you might want to let the nurses in the hospital take care of those."

I knew Mistah C was getting a lot out of the class when he put the baby doll's diaper on its head. Then we discussed abandoning the baby for In-n-Out. The Q&A portion of class was insane. People were asking questions like, "If my baby is circumsized, should I use a Brillo pad to clean it?" "If the house is on fire, should I take the baby out first or should I take the baby's crib out first so the baby has a safe place to sleep while the house burns down?"

We were guessing we were among the oldest people in the room and that most of the parents were in their early twenties. Mistah C and I found out 1) where all the stupid people were and 2) that we already knew as much as we were going to know about how to take care of a baby before having one. Edumacated people of America, skip the baby care class for In-n-Out. You will thank me for it.

Officially Full-Term 37 Week Prenatal Visit

We are now safely out of the premature delivery stage. This is good because it means that I can deliver safely at the birth center instead of getting schlepped off to the hospital. It also means that when we leave the birth center, people say, "See you next week, if not sooner!"

All stats are fine: weight, BP, glucose, protein, fetal heartrate. Fundal height was 38 cm, so we had a bit of a jump there - but a centimeter isn't that big. Baby's head is still down. Sometime in the next two weeks, they'll check for effacement and dialation, but the birth center doesn't like giving pelvic exams to pregnant women since that can sometimes inadvertantly start labor.

Our bag is packed and I believe we have all the supplies on hand they asked us to have. We have been given the instructions on when to go to the birth center, which are extremely sensible: Don't start timing contractions until it's too hard for me to speak through them. Don't call the birth center until hard contractions have been coming every 3-5 minutes for one hour. Stay at home and labor there where it's "safe" and comforting until active labor is firmly established. We're both oddly calm, in the "it'll happen when it happens" mode.

We have a baby care class tonight (nothing like procrastinating, right?) where we'll learn how to change a diaper and bathe the baby, I guess.

Finally! A contraction.

It's just a Braxton-Hicks contraction. It felt like a tightening across my abdomen and maybe lasted for a minute or so. At first I thought I'd eaten too much for lunch and was going to be sick from the effort of walking up the stairs in the heat, but it sustained at such a steady pressure that I thought, "Ah! Contraction!" After a minute or so, it stopped and the kid wriggled like mad.

It's been two hours now and I haven't had another. So it's been a little anticlimatic. I didn't think it was labor. It was just weird.

Everyone Else in Birth Class Gave Birth

One couple moved up a week from their due date and had their baby on the 4th; the other couple with the original due date of the 4th gave birth yesterday. Both were girls. That's three girls and one boy for our class so far.

Now it's just Mistah C and me waiting. I will roll 37 weeks tomorrow or Saturday, depending on whose math you're using. Then I will enjoy the "we made it to full term" sigh of relief and celebratory Ben and Jerry's.

I'm not at the fabled "I'm so sick of being pregnant" point, although it will be lovely to roll over in bed in the middle of the night without feeling like I need a crane to assist me. I keep telling this kid to stay in until it's done, which in my mind is at least 40 weeks but I won't quibble on timelines between 37 and 40 (or 42) weeks. It's just been a surprisingly easy pregnancy.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say I've been missing it, Bob."

Yes, once again, cubicle-free me has her life summed up in an Office Space quote.

I'm back at work. I haven't worked in more than a week between the blood drive and the jury duty. But I wouldn't exactly say I've missed work at all. I would be hard pressed to think of something I missed.

My email didn't work this morning, so that burned through a good hour and a half. Then I called my boss to say, hey, back at work but the email no workee. So there was a quarter of my day. The rest was just doing the silly stupid stuff I get paid to do.

It's not exactly an earth-rattling thought, but the realization that I could be off from work for an indeterminate amount of time and absolutely not care one whit about what happened while I was gone is mildly astonishing. Today I don't even care about the quality of work going out unless it's solely mine, which is odd for perfectionist little me.

Maybe it's because I'm pregnant and creating another person dwarfs the importance of anything else. Maybe being on jury duty changed my idea of the idiot to non-idiot ratio in the universe. Maybe I'm tired of dealing with a completely new management structure.

But today's the day I shut down exactly after my eight hours were done, launches and projects be damned.

Happy Independence from Jury Duty Day

We the jury were dismissed yesterday at 4:45PM, so I will not be returning to jury duty Wednesday. I will be returning to work. This means I've been out of work since last Monday. I can't say that I've missed work.

We had a hung jury on all five counts, so the case will be re-tried. Both the judge and the prosecuting attorney made a point of telling us that sometimes juries honestly can't reach a decision and it doesn't reflect poorly on us as jurors or the process. The people on the jury were all nice, thoughtful, intelligent people so I really can't say anything bad about the process.

We also had a prenatal visit yesterday morning, early to avoid being late to court. My blood pressure was high (80/135), but that was probably because I was worried about making it to jury duty on time. My midwife asked me to lie down on my side to double-check it and then my BP was 60/110 or something absolutely fine. Everything else (weight, glucose, protein) was fine. Fundal height was 36 cm, right on track for 36 weeks. Kid's fine. The midwife asked if I had my bag packed, and alas, I do not. We need to do that.

Today I don't know what we're doing other than buying milk and spending some time with my feet up. We have apparently reached the feet up stage of pregnancy.

Jury duty continues.

I can't say anything about the case, damnit. It will be running over to Monday. We finished closing statements at 4PM Friday.

I have a prenatal appointment Monday morning, which is a bit of a sticky wicket since the trial starts at 9AM. I spoke to the bailiff as I was leaving yesterday afternoon and spent some time with the counsel and judge after the jurors were excused yesterday. The judge is very kind and helpful, especially considering that when I came back in I was on my cell phone with the birth center trying to reschedule the appointment. It was rude to everyone involved. But she was understanding and seemed to appreciate the fact that I was on the phone trying to reschedule.

The birth center's computers were down, so they couldn't reschedule me.

The court basically said I could show up a little late or they would recess early on Monday so I could make a late-day appointment. That's about as understanding as it gets. I have a number to call if I'm late and Mistah C is off Monday so he can drop me off at the courthouse door, instead of my having to plan on an hour and a half of driving and trolley-taking.

But there you are. I'm fulfilling my civic duties again Monday instead of having a day off. I wonder what the guidelines for company holidays are on this - is jury duty "working" on a company holiday? Do I get compensated for it? It took HR two months to figure out maternity leave; God knows when they'll think about this.

The massive amounts of walking this week have taken a toll on me, specifically on my feet. I didn't realize my feet had swollen so much. I'm down to my Birks worn on their loosest notches; even my Crocs are too small, which I wish I'd realized before I wore them yesterday. I've got some blisters on the balls of my feet and some chafed spots on the tops from my Crocs.

Yesterday, I came home and collapsed on the couch long enough to get my strength up to take a bath. I really do mean that I had to rest to get enough strength to go to the bathtub. (And it's quite the feat for a pregnant woman to get out of a reclined bathing position; I needed Mistah C's assistance, which surprised me.) This morning, my feet are still killing me, so I'm going to find an ottoman and put my feet up and not do much today.