It occurs to me that I haven't given you a proper update on Art Vandelay since we discussed the much anticipated scheduling of the C Section, based on said baby's reluctance to turn around. Well, to the surprise of everyone guess who went and got themselves turned around? Yep. There we were in the OB's office, setting the date for August 11th when he says "the baby's head down". I laughed because I thought he was joking. He'd been making with the wise cracks earlier in the appointment and the environment was, shall we say, lighthearted. Let me put it this way...there was a framed poster from the 80's on the wall of this examination room of Tom Selleck playing beach volleyball.
I'm not kidding.
It's a good thing I'm so terribly fond of and comfortable with our midwives, because I have to say, it's a little disappointing that Art isn't going to be delivered by someone who has framed Tom Selleck posters on their office walls. I have it on good authority that there is a Burt Reynolds poster in one of the other exam rooms.
I'm not kidding.
And now here we are, 39 weeks pregnant, exactly one week away from Art's official due date. It took a little while for me to wrap my head around the fact that we weren't going to have to have the C Section. I had come to be more than OK with the idea and going back to plan A was a little disorienting. It's been a couple of weeks now and I've had time to sit with the reality and get things in order around the house (read: the packing of the suitcase and the diaper bag). That's helped. So did the in home appointment with our midwife two nights ago where she went through procedural things in great detail (when to call her, when not to call her, when to take two extra strength Tylenol and two Gravol and take a nap). She also dropped some sports analogies on us for the labour process. I imagine some people would find those analogies ineffective but man, do they ever work for me. I told the Robeau when the midwife asks why I'm hurling myself against the wall in the birthing suite he's to tell her that I'm "giving my body up for the play" a la Derek Jeter on July 1st of 2004. If squeezing a human being out my lady parts doesn't get me Team Captain, I'm demanding a recount.