I'm now in uncharted territory (sort of). Since I had Sofia at 37 and a half weeks, I've never actually been 38 weeks pregnant. I gotta tell ya, its not that much different though. The bladder is scrunched up a little more (increasing my average nightly visits to the restroom by one or two), the stretch marks are looking a little stretchier, and the baby's feet are lodged somewhere up in the region of my ribs.
I bought Sofia a baby doll yesterday to play with, to prepare her for big sisterhood. She loves it. Violently. I'm frightened.
I've stopped counting the number of times I've been told by my co-workers that I've "dropped" since they last saw me. Whatever the hell that means. As far as I'm concerned, I haven't dropped until I've dropped the baby, like its hot, right out of me. Then I'll consider myself to have dropped. Until then, I'm still working and taking care of Sofia and functioning with an 8 or 9 pound bowling ball wedged inside my pelvic bones. Ouch.
This morning I really thought I was going into labor. I was having contractions, they seemed to be getting stronger as time went by, and I was READY. I had Hugo take the baby to daycare on his way to work, so I could focus on going into full-fledged labor, and I set about waiting for the definitive moment to come. It never happened. The contractions petered out and now I don't feel any closer to being in labor than I did 3 days ago. Darn. False alarm. I remember these from last time. Only last time, I went to the hospital several times, thinking I was in labor. Now, having actually been in labor, I won't be so easily fooled.
After my labor dreams went up on smoke today I pulled myself together and took advantage of not having Sofia with me to go and get my nails done. I went to Fancy Nail, this new place in the Publix Plaza near my house. Fancy Nail. Just one. Swear to God Val. It was great. I got a French manicure and my eyebrows waxed for 24 dollars. You can't beat that. I like getting my nails done and everything, but I always feel so gargantuan when I'm sitting there in front of this tiny little Asian person with my mits in her tiny little birdlike hands. Its even worse when I get my toes done. I always wait way too long between pedicures too, so they have to get that heel scraper thing out and shave the dead skin off the bottom of my feet. Its mortifying to see a pile of what looks like very thin potato chips on the floor underneath your feet. They probably lose their appetite for lunch because of me.
So here I am, another week into the pregnancy, waiting and wondering. I can't count down the days, because I don't KNOW how many days it will be, which is maddening. I never thought of myself as an impatient person, but this is just about killing me. I'm trying so hard to be all serene and let nature take its course like I'm sure Mrs. Dugger has done for every one of her 18 and counting kids. But right now, a little bit of Cervidil and some Pitocin amongst friends is starting to sound awfully nice...