Well, here we are at 38+5, as they say in the pregnancy forums, meaning 38 weeks plus 5 days. Here we are, waiting. Impatiently. Sort of desperate, really, to meet our baby and hold our baby in our arms.
We ended up at the hospital last Sunday, because R was having fairly regular contractions, and we don't know what we're doing since she's never been pregnant before. Turns out that was just a test run, and since her cervix hadn't dilated at all, we were sent home. More waiting.
Today, we had an OB appointment. Her blood pressure was high (sort of - certainly high for her), and she mentioned that she had been seeing flashy stars recently, which we didn't think much of because they didn't seem that bad. Well, that got our OB talking about pre-eclampsia, so he scooted us off to Labor & Delivery to have the vitals checked. Baby turned out to have a heartbeat like a champ, and though R's blood pressure was once again high for her, the OB in L&D said it was fine and sent us home. Again. To wait.
The funny thing is, of course, that if you had told us around week 8 that we would make it all the way to 38+5 and have a healthy baby gestating in R's belly, we would have been ecstatic. I try to remind myself of that when I get impatient, or I get worried about whether the baby really will come out OK. R worries a lot, too, since she knows folks who lost babies after stillbirths past their due dates. I try to remind myself that the baby is doing great, and has demonstrated a certain flair for ignoring problems so far, but still, when all you have to do is wait... you worry.
So I work, and we watch movies, and we entertain ourselves by chasing baby's feet around R's belly. We even talk to the baby, trying to encourage an exit. Any time, there, baby. We're ready.