The countdown to baby time has begun in the small Ellsworth household. Seven short days now stand between now and our official due date, July 24th. I had hoped that the baby would be here by now, but unfortunately, he’s stubborn and apparently wishes to incubate a little longer. My guess is that he doesn’t really need it, as past ultrasounds have indicated that I might be giving birth to a baby in the 92nd percentile. This could develop into a rare medical condition called cephelapelvic disproportion. In other words, baby too big to fit through mommy’s pelvic structure. I keep imagining myself giving birth to something with a grown man’s head on a baby’s body (something like Devin’s bearded face on a 9 lb. Infant’s body).

Devin has become pretty desperate and anxious for baby’s arrival. The other day he attempted to use gravity to get the baby to come by shaking me up and down. When that failed to do the trick, I turned to bouncing rigorously on an exercise ball, doing power squats, and taking long evening walks. None of which have appeared to do me any good. I’m still waiting like a hen on an egg for this labor to start. It’s weird, because I’ve never actually been in labor before and I keep wondering what it feels like and what to expect. Is it possible to be in labor, and not really know it? Could I somehow miss it, and become one of the horror stories you hear about where the woman accidentally gives birth to her baby in the toilet? As Devin has pointed out in the past, it’s like waiting to be hit by a giant bus. You’re not sure when exactly it will happen, but when it does, you know it’s going to hurt real bad.
I almost wish my water would just break. That seems like a much easier diagnosis. So many people will tell you, “now don’t go to the hospital until your good and ready.” What does that mean? My mom keeps reminding me (along with the importance of conditioning nipples for nursing) what good labor is. The doctor also, in an effort to avoid unnecessary hospital visits, reminds me every week that I shouldn’t go to the hospital until my contractions are 2 minutes apart lasting 45 to 60 seconds. What does that mean? Isn’t everyone different? Here comes my fear of giving birth in the toilet again. It would be so much easier to just say, “okay when a giant gush of fluid comes out, go to the hospital.” Now that… would be ideal. Unfortunately, that is only the case for a small fraction of the female population (approximately 10%). Most likely, my doctor will break my water for me after I’m in hard-core labor.