Week 36, Day 4
Since no word of Little Dude Arrival Date pools has reached my in-box, I’m not too worried about this post spoiling anyone’s financial windfall. Consultations between Dr. Binka-Binka and Dr. Oliver have resulted in our timetable being moved up. Instead of a February 21 due date, we’re now looking at being induced on February 11, and this is pretty much for sure.
So nobody else has to look at a calendar, let me confirm: February 11 is just FIFTEEN DAYS AWAY.
It’s also his Uncle Matt’s birthday. And if it takes longer than 16-18 hours, then February 12 is Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. Not bad days to be born on, either of them. (And if, heaven forbid, things stretch out to the 13th, well, we’re looking at Grant Wood and Tennessee Ernie Ford, both esoteric but fun.)
But let’s get back to that slight note of hysteria over losing 10 days of prep time. Michael and I have both been hit hard with an upper respiratory crud for the past three weeks, and I took a tumble over a footstool late Friday night and strained my back (but did a half-gainer on the way to the floor that protected Little Dude, whose subsequent fetal monitoring by Dr. Oliver was pronounced “a great track, the best track we’ve ever seen”), and we haven’t gotten quite as much taken care of as we’d hoped to have done by now. Fortunately, my mom used Southwest to fly out to see us on January 5, and thanks to their no-change-fee policy, she’s been able to extend her ticket a couple of times to take care of us. So among the many other things she’s accomplished (chicken soup, chocolate chip cookies), the freezer is stocked and getting stockeder, and the crib has a bedskirt and curtains are nearly finished, and clothes and bedding and diapers are sorted, and so on. She’s here until Tuesday, and then Michael’s parents will come down the week of to help us with last-minute things and then will stay while we’re at the hospital so Bailey and the Pussycats have caretaking, and Everything Will Work Out.
Meanwhile, while trying not to infect other expecting moms, we did manage to get to enough of our childbirth classes to be kind of grossed out by what’s coming up. We got a tour of the maternity ward and I know now that I will definitely need to take my own pillows and that I am going to be wishing for a lamp in the mother-baby suite afterwards because all they’ve got is horrendous overhead fluorescent lighting. Our birth plan (which is chock-full of the phrase “we would prefer but”) has been signed off on by Dr. Oliver. And actually, the distract-yourself-from-the-pain breathing techniques we learned did come in handy when I was dealing with the strained back muscles after the fall.
So, in the next 15 days, we’ve got to:
* Finish washing baby bedding and some newborn clothes
* Finish stocking the diaper drawer
* Get some renovation/construction chores done and cleaned up after
* Double-check that insurance coverage is in place
* Install the car seats
* Pack the hospital bag
Among other things. But those are the top priorities, in no particular order. Along with settle on a name so we aren’t calling our boy “Dude” or “Duderino” or “L.D.” for the rest of his life.
Finally, a big shout-out to my college friend Joseph and his wife Heather, who have been about a month ahead of us on this trip and who welcomed little Zoe into the world yesterday. Memphis is a long way to go for a play date, but we could be convinced. Welcome, Zoe!