24 weeks tomorrow.
Holy Crap.
More on that next time.
Ray is in labor, on the day of her work baby shower (she missed it). I feel so jealous. I just can't shake this feeling. It isn't even like this is an especially good thing. Her baby girl is 5lbs 8oz per the U/S but has dropped from the 35th to the 10th percentile in the last 3 weeks. The docs told her last week that if baby was in the 5th percentile or smaller they would deliver. They decided to change their minds and deliver her anyway, at 37w2d in fear there is a nutrient blockage. Ray is freaking out.
She and I are opposites in a lot of ways. She is super laid back, and by that I mean, not a planner. She has been busy renovating a house she just bought and hadn't put the car seat into the car, packed her bag or really planned and exit strategy at work. I have a dated schedule of when each of those tasks will be done. Seriously.
(NOTE: Reading this as part of putting this blog back up on 10/30/14. I was so much like Ray in this regard... I didn't have bags packed!)
She never took a birthing class. She just assumes/ed everything will be fine. (Note: Neither did I)
And the thing is, she is most likely right.
So what? Her bag wasn't packed? Her husband is running home while she gets set up in a delivery room to grab their things and the car seat. Labor is natural, it can't be THAT big of a deal to never take a class. Work will go on without her.
All that matters is a healthy baby in the end.
Hopefully she gets that.
For me, I need to control as much as I can so that I can ignore the fact that everything I really need to control is out of my hands.
Everybody loses, we all got bruises
We all got bruises
Train, Bruises
(I HATE Train, and the song annoys me to no end, but I like this line, though grammatically incorrect)
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