Well, I progressed. But only 1/2 a centimeter. Which, if you are keeping track, is still 1/2 a centimeter LESS than I was dilated three weeks ago. The doctor also said that the baby's head is "still up near Sherman", which (for those of you not familiar with Texas geography) is essentially Oklahoma. My birth canal is located in Dallas, so that isn't a super promising sign of impending labor.
So, basically, I haven't really progressed at all, but I'm trying to look on the bright side. Because, you know, the other side is nothing but depressing. And dark. And babyless.
The doctor did offer to induce, but I really don't want to yet. Which (I know, I know) is strange since I am so obviously over the whole pregnancy thing. It is just that I hear that inducing can cause a whole host of problems and often ends in a c-section. I'd rather let nature take its course. The doctor agrees. At least to a point. As long as my body continues to tolerate being past due and there isn't a risk to the baby he is willing to let it go a little while longer. But he is pulling the plug if something doesn't happen by next Wednesday's appointment. Mainly because there have been issues surrounding my due date (obviously), and things start going downhill pretty quickly the closer you get to 42 weeks.
At least this whole situation got my doctor to sort of admit in a roundabout way that my due date has already come and gone. Even the sonogram tech was shocked to see me this morning and exclaimed, "OMG! You're STILL pregnant," when she came into the room during my internal exam. And the receptionist and nurses now look at me with large, round eyes that are just dripping with pity. When I went to make my appointment for next Wednesday, the woman behind the counter even patted my hand and told me that she'd be praying for the baby to come soon. Nothing, she claimed, would make her happier than having to take me off of next week's schedule.
Which, wow. Do I really look that awful?
The good news is my body is handling the stress very well (even if my appearance is taking a beating). According to the doctor, this is mainly due to the fact that I am tall, have a lot of room and have been physically active during my pregnancy. If I wasn't all these things, it would likely be a different story. Especially considering that the doctor still insists I am carrying a very large baby. He even joked that I could make the news on Sunday with a twelve pounder born on the first day of 2012.
Which, if you are me and have to give birth sometime soon, is SO not funny.
My doctor actually thinks my kiddo will be in the 8-10 pound range. He describes my abdomen as being "all baby" and consistently firm on all sides. Apparently, there isn't a lot of padding or wasted space in there, which leads him to believe that Thor will most likely be a heavy weight at birth.
I'm still hoping for a healthy and completely average seven pounder, and have my fingers crossed that Trevor's petite 6 pound, 4 ounce birth weight will influence his unborn kiddo. Because the idea of having to squeeze a giant baby out of my hoo-haa is a little disconcerting regardless of how I am excited I am to have all this over with soon.
Plus, with all the discrepancies with my due date, I find it hard to believe my doctor will call my baby's birth weight with any accuracy. But maybe that is just wishful thinking.
I guess only time will tell, right? And as long as the little guy is healthy, nothing else really matters.
See? Bright side. I am so owning it.