Since Ben and I found out we were having a baby, I have hoped and prayed that he would not arrive on my birthday. We did plan the pregnancy and hoped that we could have an April or May baby. But there are only so many things I can control; how was I to know if we conceived in July, my due date would be a week after my 30th birthday. I am not so selfish that I don’t want to share my birthday with my child; I just don’t think that it’s an ideal situation. The one upside is that your child would never have an excuse to forget his mom’s birthday.
Well, today at the doctor’s office they told me nothing has changed since my last appointment. Baby’s still engaged, cervix is still dilated around 2cm and I still weigh more than I ever have in my entire life. He won’t be making his big debut today. Probably won’t make it tomorrow. And no way to guarantee he’ll be here by his due date. So we started discussing the possibility of inducing. My doctor told me he didn’t want me to go much past 41 weeks. I told him I didn’t much care for going past 40 weeks. So, as of right now, we are looking at inducing me some time late on April 30th and maybe having a baby by May 1st. I am seriously hoping that I can go into labor before then, but it’s nice to know that there is a backup plan should my uterus prove to be to cozy of a home.
On the note of induction, I just don’t understand why a doctor would offer you the option of being induced before your due date if you aren’t having any problems in your pregnancy. I realize a baby can be born at 38 weeks and be perfectly healthy, but why risk it?
Back to the birthday. So today, I am 30. I don’t feel any older. I feel too young to be married and on the precipice of becoming a mother. I can’t believe this is my ninth birthday I have spent with Ben. I’ve been called ma’am by a 15-year old.