It's official.
It definitely stinks to be on bedrest for your birthday.
I love my birthday. More than any adult should.
The birthday-- the only day of the year that is just about you. The secret narcissist in me was hoping that Baby E wouldn't make his appearance today. You know, because it isn't fair to HIM to share a birthday with his Mom.
Shawn threw my suitcase in the car this morning, just to go with the thought that if you build it, he won't come.
I had my next-to-last doctor's appointment today, so at least I was able to get out of the house for awhile. And awhile turned out to be much longer than expected when Dr. J said... "You've got a large baby in there. We need to make sure we aren't dealing with a 10-pounder."
Say WHAT?
10 pounds is a lot of baby. Especially for a baby that has consistently been measuring a little bit behind. And oh, by the way, he has NO interest in coming out, so he's going to need a little medical help to do so.
The good news? My blood pressure was back to normal, as were my liver enzymes.
So my 15 minute doctor's appointment turned into a return trip back this afternoon for a final ultrasound to check on sizing.
And whew. Baby E is measuring a couple ounces above 8 pounds (give or take). If he was over 9, my scheduled induction was most likely to turn into a scheduled ultrasound for next Thursday.
So after 5 hours out of bedrest, the rest of my evening grand plans became not so grand. A Subway tuna sub for dinner, and a piece of red velvet cake Shawn brought home.
I'm so fancy.
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