38 Weeks

Well, it's actually 38 1/2 weeks, but who's counting at this point? :) I am feeling large and in charge. Honestly, I am feeling huge, weepy, achy, and obnoxious. Here are my stats:
Me: 38 weeks, 3 days (less than a week to go!)
Baby: heartbeat was 126-130 bpm, very active, and jamming her feet out my right side. The US tech could actually see the bulge above my hip bone and showed me the toes on the scan.
Weight: Down a pound and a half since my appt. Monday.
Blood pressure: 120/80. Was told it was "good".
Dr. Visit: Went to perinatalogy yesterday (Friday) at 11 AM. Was actually seen at 12:10 PM, but I digress. Biophysical profile was great (8 out of 8) so doctor decided I didn't need to do the NST. They scheduled me to come back next Tuesday at 8 AM for another biophysical profile (BPP) and NST. I guess the fear of liability is going to force me to a doctor's office every day of the week.
Then I had an appt at my regular OB-GYN at 2 PM. They saw me right away, which was a nice change of pace, and stripped my membranes. I was unaware that they would be doing that! I was told to come back for this appt purely for "dilation check" reasons. Apparently, that is code for "jam your fist up my yoo-hoo and whirl it around". It really wasn't that bad, pain wise, and I've had cramping and a little bleeding since (oh, and a lot of mucus, but that might be TMI). Doctor said "Hope this helps! Might put you into labor this weekend!". The procedure "works" if your body is already favorable for labor and the procedure doesn't make a hill of beans if your body is not ready for labor. So we'll see. I'm convinced that you only go into labor if it's completely inconvenient. So Tim and I are sure it will happen Sunday night or Monday morning since he has electrician school on Monday. You are only allowed to miss TWO DAYS of school per calendar year (as opposed to middle school, where my students are absent on a weekly basis with no repercussions). That means "strict attendance policy" = "labor". Worst case scenario? Nothing happens and I go into the hospital Wed. afternoon for my scheduled induction. An end is in sight, people!
Likes this Week: My ultra sassy US tech, Roxy (who calls me "mama" and "girlfriend"); having an easy week at work; getting an induction date; knowing that Carrie is only a couple weeks away from visiting!
Dislikes this Week: the end of an era (Sable); breaking bad news to my children; my obsessive urge to nest (I practically did the splits on my freshly mopped kitchen floor); keeping up with blood sugar #s now that cravings are out of control (I cannot tell you the number of times I have looked over at Tim and said 'Want to go get a cheese burger? What about a steak? Or crab cakes?')

Side view. Notice the look of sheer exhaustion in my eyes.

Our "update" board so Timmy can act like he always knows exactly how far along I am

Off topic, but the stepping stone we made for Sable before her passing. Looking back, I know my biggest regret, by far, would have been not making this stone. We have her paw print and some black hairs stuck in concrete forever. The kids added the stones that came with the kit.

All Dogs Go to Heaven...

and Sable is now their God. I want to remember my dog for the almost 12 years of good that I had her, not the couple of weeks of bad that finally took her. I remember, clear as day, walking up to the front door of the house where she was born. There were three black Labs, all females, still left from the litter. The owner had just put down a giant pan of food and two of the puppies jumped right in, completely ignoring me. Sable was the only one who glanced away from the food, looked at me, and wandered up to me, her tail wagging. I took her home that day. She was 8 weeks ago, full of piss and vinegar (the first of which was hardly dribbled on my carpet--it felt like she was housebroken in a day). She was just the smartest dog. Chris's dad, Big Mike, used to say "other dogs will bring the paper to you. Sable will read it for you". I taught her to shake, sit, lay down, and speak. Timmy taught her how to use her "indoor voice", a low growl/bark that always got her a "good girl!" and treat. The dog knew English as well. She had a look for when you said "outside, food, treat, ball, or dinner". She trained like a dream. I take the credit for making her the great dog she was, but really, she was just always that great. She will be sorely missed. Tim and I remind ourselves that keeping her here--sore, tired, half blind, unable to walk, and unwilling to eat--is cruel. She is in a better place for her, where she can go after all the tennis balls that get thrown off docks and all the ducks that get shot out of the sky. She is now sleeping in the ivy, her favorite lounging area of the yard. As Caroline said so sweetly last night "She's going to go to sleep for the rest of her life?" Yes, and our memories of her will never fade. Soon, I won't tear up every time I think of her. I will laugh a little or smile, remembering how she always pretended that she wasn't on the couch when I got home from work, even with the pile of dog hair on the cushions. Or how she loved to roll on her back, place her paws on either side of her face, and meditate. Or how Garrett used to walk her down to the pond behind our house, throw the stick for her, and then give her a bath when he brought her back. Or the days that she would see Timmy the Giant and me in a full size bed, and without thought or reason, heave herself into the middle of it. She was my first born. Way before there was a husband, two kids, an exhusband, another husband, and a baby on the way, there was Sable. My first baby girl. Her signature pose: "curious dog head".

Her favorite spot: the ivy

Yesterday. She still had her perky moments.

The kids and Sable, before we gave them the news. They knew she was sick, but they didn't know she wasn't getting better.

Caroline insisted on sleeping with Sable when she got the news. This shot was taken right before we left for school. Caroline said her goodbyes, then just had a quiet moment with her dog.

Before we left for the vet. Sable gave us a look that said she knew. I love her for letting us let her go.

May I Ask You a Question?

I get this 400 times a day. Most of the time it goes like this: "May I ask you a question? How you feeling? When you gonna finally have that baby?" Sometimes this is followed up by the ever-helpful statements: "You look so tired", "You look so over it", and my personal favorite "I don't think you can get any bigger!". Well, here are my top 5 answers to this question:
1) I AM TIRED. I sleep 2 hours at a time. If I lay down on a soft surface, I fall asleep in 2 seconds. I have been known to nod off in the middle of conversation. I regularly fall asleep during my NST and ultrasounds. I snore with abandon.
2) I AM SORE. I hold in the weight of a baby with the sheer willpower of my pelvic bones. Everything hurts. Even if the baby is only 6.5 pounds, the fluids and placenta add additional weight. When I roll over, I feel like I got hit with a tire iron. I have more in common with geriatrics right now than my students.
3) I AM SAD. This is supposed to be a joyous time, but it's overshadowed by sadness. Sable the Dog is sick and isn't getting better. Dr. Dunlap, the best vet out there, finally put it to me this way: "We need to talk about the thing that no one wants to talk about". This is the puppy that picked me, not the other way around. I have had her longer than my children. She is my first born. Follow up post later.
4) I AM IRRITATED. It all irritates me. Students with questions, kids with needs, coworkers with comments, and a house full of chores. When the doctor sees me on time, I am irritated that I can't grade papers in the waiting room. When the doctor is running an hour behind, I am irritated that she hasn't updated her magazine collection since 2005. I am irritated when the phone rings and irritated when it sits silently on the counter. I am irritated that I have to prick my fingers 5 times a day and irritated that I have to wake up from the couch at night long enough to give myself an insulin injection.
5) I AM SWOLLEN. My feet are the least of it. Now my fingers are red with bands of white at the knuckles. My wrists are getting marks from my watch for the first time in my life. My wedding ring looks like a cobra fighting a caymen....and losing. My face feels fat everytime I turn my head. Don't even get me started on the downstairs region. If my blood volume increased by 40% due to pregnancy, I will tell you where 38% of that blood volume sits all day--in an uncomfortable place that gets mashed everytime I cross my legs. I am three seconds from buying support hose or sitting on a donut pillow.