Whoups, the one time I update right in the box I lose the entry.
Ahem, where was I?
Oh yes, we have an OB. WE HAVE AN OB! She's nice and kind and comforting and does crazy things like look you in the eyes and answer questions and talk in a soothing voice. My gods, a doctor that doesn't incite violence in my scarred psyche.
So we're delivering at the hospital next door and not the crazy-stressful snotty place downtown, I don't get to choose a home-birth, naked in a tub with my Dave, but I think I can live with that after everything.
We have an OB. We have the beginning of a birth plan. My blood pressure read normal today, and we're going to keep watching it but so far so good.
We heard the baby's heartbeat, so strong and even. My eyes flew wide and Dave had that superhuman grin going, and my own heart jumped and soared.
I, a creature that thrives on knowing what to expect, am still filled with concern and uncertainty -- terrifying birth and breastfeeding stories (cracked and bleeding nipples, cracked and bleeding nipples!) abound and every book and website out there from Dr. Spock to Dr. Sears are as biased as religions.
But. Still. We have a doctor. We have a hospital. We have a due date, a heartbeat, yoga class tryout sessions and so far we haven't gained any weight but we've swollen out of our underwear.
And when I say we, I mean we three.
We. Wheeee.