Bridget's Pregnancy Blog

I’m still pregnant, which is ok by me since I really want this baby to wait until January to be born. But it is starting to feel like some kind of waiting game now.

Justin and I have transitioned from thinking about pregnancy to thinking about baby these days and everything seems to be some combination of getting ready for his arrival and waiting to see when exactly that will be.

I feel like I count things in baby time now. This last week wasn’t nearly as much about “three days, two days, one day until Christmas” as it was about “one week until my due date” or “five days until I stop working and go on semi-maternity leave.” (I tutor outside the home as well as write from home, so my outside work stops, but my at-home work really has no need to, which is why I’m calling it “semi-maternity leave”)

Last Sunday, December 27th, was my “original due date,” the first date they gave me when they calculated from my LMP. We knew it was slightly off though, and it got changed to match the ultrasound, so now I’m considered a few days before my due date instead of a few days after it.

Everyone I see or talk to on the phone or online asks if I’ve had the baby yet. (Nope, but I’m sure I’ll announce it everywhere when I do!)

I feel like I’m trying to balance planning anything with the possibility of having the baby at any moment. Every invitation to go have dinner or see a movie with friends or query as to whether I will be at our local writers’ group this week has to be answered “I think so, as long as I don’t go into labor before then…”

Every time I call Justin, his first questions are “Are you in labor? Do I need to come home from work now?” I’ve learned to call and say “Not yet. Just calling to ask you a question” before he even speaks.

Of course, I’m also wondering how long this waiting game will last. I don’t seem to be exhibiting any signs that he’ll try to beat my self-imposed “wait til January” deadline, but it could always go the other way, too. I’m not sure how I’ll be feeling if he decides to wait a couple of weeks after my due date! At that point, my conversations with my belly are sure to turn from “Just wait a little longer” to “Ok, you can come out now. Please!”

Meanwhile, I’m just waiting. And buying baby clothes. And wondering if I will, indeed, make it to writers group next Monday or not.

As a pregnant mom-to-be, I’ve been listening to others talk about their experiences and thoughts about pregnancy as they chat, post on message boards and email lists and just in general make themselves heard in a lot of different ways.

And I’ve started to wonder if I’m the only one who, at 38 weeks, isn’t dying to get the baby out.

It seems like there are a lot of pregnant women who take the 38 week mark as some sign that the baby should come out already and who can’t stomach the thought of another 2-4 weeks of pregnancy.

I’ve even heard about people scheduling inductions and C-sections at 38 weeks, just because they think it’s convenient.

My response to that is – Seriously? Scheduling a C-section or induction at 38 weeks? That seems slightly insane to me. I mean, what if the dates are off and you are actually earlier than that? You could end up with a premature baby, perhaps with lungs that aren’t fully developed or even just who would be better off with a little more weight put on before emerging from the womb. The baby obviously isn’t ready yet! If the babe were ready, he or she would be starting the birth process.

In some ways it feels like a whole different culture of thought to me, and somewhat violent toward the poor babe. I generally think of mine in there as having a relaxing last few weeks floating around in comfort and finishing growing and getting himself ready for life in the real world. I can’t comprehend pulling him out of that before he’s ready. What kind of start to life would that be?

I can understand the need for an induction or scheduled C-section if there is a problem. Preeclampsia, perhaps, could potentially send me to the hospital asking if an early birth might be best for me and the babe. But with no medical reason, why is it so hard to wait for at least the due date, which is generally set at 40 weeks, to have the baby?

Personally, if there are no complications that could potentially endanger the baby or me I’m not really interested in discussing induction until 42 weeks. I’m sure by that point I’ll be more than eager to meet him if he hasn’t come out yet. But I can’t fathom putting him at risk just because I want him born at a convenient time.

I think sometimes it’s best to trust our bodies and our babies and let nature take its course. Yes, it might mean a few more weeks of swollen feet and big belly and all of the other little inconveniences.

But really, being 38 , 39, 40 weeks pregnant is not that bad.

I’m definitely at the point now where I’m swollen. The swollen belly I expected. That pretty much is par for the course when there’s a growing baby inside there.

A lot of women complain at this point, I’ve noticed. I get a lot of comments along the lines of “you must be ready to get him out of there!” Which, as I’ve mentioned before, isn’t really the case since I’m pretty eager for him to hang out a while until next month. So the big belly thing isn’t a big deal for me. I long ago accepted the idea that I’d spend a month or two waddling like a penguin. This is not something I’m overly concerned about.

No, the thing I miss most is my feet.

I used to have feet that fit into shoes. I was never particularly enamored of my feet, but they really were decent at one time. They got me where I was going without any significant pain. They could wear cute shoes, even if I never thought they looked too good in sandals or open-toe shoes. But now, all has changed.

Instead of the feet I have known all my life, I now have something resembling pouffy sausages down there at the ends of my legs. When I can see them, which isn’t all that often anymore on account of the belly between us, they look quite unhappy, all red and puffed up. If they were eyes, they’d look like they’ve been crying.

Meanwhile, they’ve begun to stage a rebellion against footwear. The warm fuzzy-inside slip-on boots I bought a month ago, which I was wise enough to buy a size too big, are now getting tight. Occasionally, my right foot completely refuses to come out of the boot for a few minutes at a time. None of my cute slip-ons fit anymore and my tennis shoes might be able to work for a few hours as long as I don’t try actually lacing them up. My heels, of course, were abandoned long ago.

I’m hoping my feet, my real feet- not these strange imposters, will return sometime in January. I anticipate this event and eagerly await the day when I can once again fit into all of the shoes now languishing under my bed.

Of course, at that point, I’ll probably just want to lounge around barefoot in my apartment with my new baby for a month or two anyway, so maybe the return of my feet won’t even be particularly noticed.

Nonetheless, I think I’ll be happy about it anyway. Maybe I’ll buy a cute pair of slippers to celebrate.

So, as of today by any calculation, I’m full term- 37 weeks! Full term is the point at which, if the baby is born, he will no longer be considered premature. His lungs and other organs are fully developed and all he will do from this point until birth is hang around in my belly gaining weight. Quite lazy of him, if you ask me!

I’m joking, of course. I still want him to stay in there until January.

Today, as part of the prenatal workup for the full-term health check, baby and I had what might be our last ultrasound. They will do another one at 40 weeks if he hasn’t arrived by then, but it may or may not get to that point.

In this ultrasound, I noticed that he’s so big now that I really can’t see much anymore. I got a look at his big head and his spine. He’s posterior-facing, looking toward my back, which is good, since that is the easiest position for birth. The tech managed to get a good view of his ear, but that was the only body part that was easily distinguishable from the angle he’s facing. I also got to see that he has some hair, so he won’t be born bald, apparently!
The tech measured his head and body and declared that he is a little over seven pounds. The doctor says this is normal for his gestational age and my ethnicity and height/weight profile. Chinese babies are generally a little smaller than Caucasian babies, just as many of the Chinese women here are smaller than me.

In actuality, what I was told was basically something along the lines of “The baby is big but it’s ok because you have big American hips so you can have the baby naturally and it will be ok.” I think something gets lost in the translation between the doctor’s second-language English and my very poor Chinese. As I told my partner Justin, who had to miss today’s appointment due to work, “Everything looks fine because I’m a fat American and can birth a big baby.”

I am kind of hoping he doesn’t grow too much more. The charts all say that the baby grows about a half pound a week during the last month or so, but since I want him to stay in there another 3-4 weeks, I’m looking at a 8 1/2 to 9 pound baby!

Nonetheless, it was good to see him again and maybe the next time I see him will be not on an ultrasound monitor, but in person. (Just not until January, please.)

So, according to the calculated date, I’m now “full term”- 37 weeks. Which means that the baby could, theoretically be born at any time.

I have my own issues about the dating, since I think my actual due date should be about a week later than it is. It was already changed once because the calculated date and the date based on my ultrasounds didn’t match up.

They calculate based on last menstrual period (LMP), but that can be inaccurate due to a lot of reasons- irregular cycles, late ovulation, late implantation, etc. My original “due date” (or “guess date” more accurately) was December 27th.

Many doctors will change the date if the first ultrasound shows a significantly different age for the fetus, which mine did. At our first ultrasound, my baby was measuring about 12 days younger via ultrasound than when using the calculations.

They didn’t change the date right away for me, however, but waited until the second ultrasound, when he was still measuring about 10 days behind, to push my due date out one week. So now, my “due date” is January 3rd.

I’m still fairly convinced that the first ultrasound was correct and he’s really about 12 days younger than the original calculation instead of just one week. (Which would be January 8th) If I’m right, I won’t really reach 37 weeks for another 6 days. Which I am completely fine with!

In actuality, I don’t want him to be born until January. December is always so busy and I think it’s hard for a kid to have a birthday that kinda gets lost in all of the holiday stuff.

My partner Justin’s birthday is December 21st and he pointed out that as a child he always hated getting one “birthday and Christmas” present all together instead of getting two separate celebrations like all the other kids who didn’t have a holiday season birthday. So we’d like to spare the baby that.

Everyone except us also thinks it would be a great idea to have the baby on New Years Eve at midnight. I am really hoping to avoid that one!

My own preference leans toward January 6th. I would love to have him on that day because it is the end of Christmas season (the twelfth day of Christmas) and the beginning of Carnival season! I think that would be a great time to have a birthday.

So every day, I’ve been talking to the baby and telling him “I know it sounds really interesting out here, but trust me, you want to wait until January!” Don’t know if he’ll listen or not, but it’s worth a try.

As I posted on my Facebook page this week “The doctor told me my baby is engaged. I think he should at least wait until he’s born to get involved in serious relationships.”

“Engaged” in pregnancy terms means something quite different, of course, but many women aren’t sure exactly what it does mean. So here is a little Q&A about the process and what it means.

What does “The baby is engaged” mean?

Basically, when the baby becomes engaged, he or she has dropped into the pelvic cavity and is getting ready for birth. Before that point, the baby is floating around in the womb, with head above the pubic bones, bouncing along merrily as mom goes about her daily activities.

Can you feel when the baby engages?

I didn’t really notice much difference, but it depends on the woman. Most people don’t seem to feel the actual engagement and need to be told by their doctor that it’s happened. Some moms-to-be notice a feeling that the baby has dropped down lower than before, giving a little more room in the upper abdomen that allows for easier breathing (which is why it is also sometimes called “lightening”.) I didn’t really have any breathing issues, so I didn’t notice that. I DID notice that this past week I’ve been having less heartburn, which is probably because baby is not pushing up on my stomach so much. And I’ve also noticed more need to go to the bathroom, probably because of a bit more pressure on my bladder.

Does the baby engaged mean the baby will be born early?

Nope. There’s not really any correlation. In first-time moms, the babe can drop down and become engaged anytime from a month before labor starts up til the day of birth. For subsequent pregnancies it is usually a little later, so it’s not uncommon for second and further babies not to engage until they are ready to be born.

What are the numbers the doctor gives?

The doctor will usually assign numbers- also called stations- to measure engagement. These take the form of +2, _1, 0, -1, -2.  The positive numbers mean the baby is dropping lower and lower, with +2 being when you have baby’s head pushing down on your cervix. Station 0 is the earliest stage of engagement, when the baby is in the middle of your belly with head dipping just down past your pelvic bones. Anything in the positive numbers means the baby hasn’t engaged yet and is still floating above the pelvic bones.

So there it is, an explanation of engaged that doesn’t require grounding your baby for starting to date before out of the womb!

So, one of the most important things on the birth plan is, of course, how you want to handle the actual birth.

I find it quite strange here in Beijing, actually, that many (if not most) women choose to voluntarily have a C-section. They schedule their baby’s birth for a particular time, date and doctor and are processed quite efficiently by a system that is completely used to this way of doing things.

Um, yeah, I’m so not going that route.

I’m lucky in a way that I’m working with a birth center that’s used to dealing with foreigners. They’re fairly accepting of the idea that we apparently like to do things differently, even if we get looked at a bit askance when we say things like “natural birth” and “no medication.”

Yep, that’s the route I’m going- no C-section, no epidural, no inductions, etc. I suppose even in the U.S. many would question my choices (I mean, who turns down pain meds, right?), but I make them for a few reasons.

One, I don’t like the idea of either me or my baby having any kind of meds in our systems right after birth. I want to start breastfeeding immediately, and I know sometimes the meds can hinder this.

Second, I’m really not looking forward to lying flat on my back for any long portion of this whole thing- I want to be able to walk around and get in whatever position I want for labor, and once an epidural takes effect that becomes impossible.

Third, I’m a writer. Now, this might seem like it has nothing to do with how I give birth, but think about it- one day I might have a scene to write in a novel or story where someone is giving birth. I want to know what it feels like. Being completely medicated would rob me of that experience. Yeah, I know that one is weird, but it’s still a reason on my list.

Fourth, I’m kinda stubborn. And if my ancestors could do it, I sure as hell can give birth without resorting to a wimpy “give me the drugs” change of heart. In some ways I guess it’s a test to see if I can hold out on my convictions about this.

I’ve been reading about and practicing some things in the Hypnobirthing and Hypnobabies programs. We don’t have classes here in Bejing for these things, but I have a friend who used these methods when she birthed her daughter last year and I’ve done meditation in martial arts practice for quite a few years, so I was already familiar with the basics of self-relaxation techniques.

I’m not sure I started the program early enough to achieve the completely peaceful, seemingly painless natural birth some women have using these techniques, but I’m giving it a go.

So I’m heading into the “birth” part of the birth plan with full confidence in my ability to do this whole thing without medication and as little medical intervention as possible. And the nurses working at the birth center continue to nod and smile and look at me as one of those strange foreigners who makes choices they don’t quite get.

So, the famed nesting instinct has begun to kick in now that I’m one month away from my due date.

Now don’t anyone get over-excited and think that I’m cleaning and scrubbing down the entire apartment or anything. And I’m certainly not dusting the houseplants, as some of my friends have been known to do when the nesting instinct hit. I haven’t quite reached that point yet.

In truth, I’ve never been the best of housekeepers. I’m more of a “if the stack of papers is piled neatly then it’s not a real mess” kinda girl. Although I have noticed a recent tendency to straighten my stacks a little more and hide away all of the books that don’t quite fit on a shelf into boxes to be shoved under the bed. I’m still quite anti-doing the dishes, however.

For me, it’s more of a “need to buy baby clothes and things” feeling, as I realize that we have pretty much nothing yet for the baby other than my extensive collection of baby socks, which I’ve been buying whenever I see them because they’re just so darned cute. So it’s suddenly hit me that we’ll need things. Things like diapers. And onesies. And baby blankets. (And in a truly hilarious aside that I’ve been giggling about since I learned it- I found out a couple of weeks ago that “diapers” in Chinese translates into “pee pants.” I’m now just waiting for the chance to tell Justin “Honey, can you go to the store and pick up some pee pants.”)

I’m also eager to get a sling/carrier, because I’m looking forward to the idea of baby wearing- carrying my little one around with me as I walk around the apartment and such. I found a place here in China (Bao Bei Baby Carriers) based out of Shanghai that makes and sells different styles of hand made baby carriers, like ring slings and wrap carriers. I suspect they will be getting some of my money very soon!

There is also a cute little newborn set with blanket, onesie, hat, booties and mittens that has been catching my eye at the baby store when I wander through there. Along with the millions of other things I keep spotting that seem like marvelous ideas for a new baby.

So, yes, my nesting instinct has gone mostly in the direction of shopping, much to Justin’s dismay. I think he’d rather see me eagerly doing dishes and dusting the houseplants. He’ll get over it though. Or I’ll have to send him out to buy “pee pants.”

Now that I’ve hit my final month or so (and realized this morning that December 3rd is one month from my due date of January 3rd!) , I’ve started to alternate between panic (oh no! I need to buy more baby clothes! Need to clean the apartment!) and getting a little nostalgic about the earlier days of pregnancy.

I was thinking last night about when I first found out about my pregnancy and how I basically thought it was kind of funny at the time. It almost didn’t seem real, especially since I’d had a lot of trouble getting pregnant a few years ago when I’d been actively trying so this unexpected pregnancy seemed to be a classic example of “when you stop looking for it, you’ll get what you were looking for.”

But after that first initial realization, the next few months were mostly uncomfortable, with a lot of fatigue, nausea, heartburn and other minor issues that just seemed to go on continuously for about 12-14 weeks.

The first time I really had the realization of this being a little person in there was at my 12 week prenatal appointment, the first ultrasound, where I saw the little vaguely baby-shaped (and kinda alien-shaped!) little creature floating around in there. He was kicking his legs and not doing much else, but it was really cool to see him moving.

At that time, there were a ton of problems- everything from him being too small for his gestational age to having his intestines outside the body still, and I was naturally in a panic over all the problems. Luckily, they’ve all resolved themselves since then, and he seems perfectly fine at this point. He’s even turned over properly, so he’s head-down, and all of the vital signs they check at appointments seem to be good.

Overall, I think I’ve been enjoying pregnancy, despite all of the little inconveniences that come along with it. I know a lot of people find the whole process annoying or frustrating, but I haven’t really felt that way.

Justin teases me that once I have the baby I will get “empty belly syndrome” and want to have another one soon after. I’m not so sure I’ll be quite that eager, but maybe in a year or two.

Meanwhile, I’m heading into the last month, eager to meet my little one, but at the same time eager for him to stay in there long enough for me to get everything done that I need to do before his arrival.

Just as I begin to get to the point where I’m feeling uncomfortable again in my pregnancy, I’m starting to notice that there are some distinct perks to being pregnant.

I don’t want to complain, not really, since overall I’m still filled with joy every time I feel the baby move and still find fetal hiccups unbearably cute. But there are definitely times when I want to say “Hey- you’re cute squirming around in there, but could you please not press your little hand down into my bladder quite so hard” or “Ouch! That was my rib!” Add to that the fact that my stomach and lungs are being slowly compressed up into my chest, which makes Tums my new best friend, and the increasing difficulty moving from sitting to standing or vice versa. The last trimester is certainly less enjoyable physically than the blissful second trimester was.

Nonetheless, there are a few advantages. For one, I always get a seat on the bus now. Maybe back at month five or six I could have hidden my growing belly under a coat or large sweater, but now I am firmly in the “obviously pregnant” category. This leads people not only to offer up seats, but also to ask if I need help with just about anything from opening doors to carrying groceries to hailing a taxi.

Another odd perk to being really pregnant is that there is always a conversation topic at parties- which works well for this time of year. You know that part of the holiday party where there are a bunch of people standing around who don’t really know anyone else at the party and don’t know how to start a conversation up with any of the other people standing around? Well, I’m the easy answer to that. People come up to me and ask if they can get me anything or ask questions about when my due date is or whether I know if it’s a boy or girl yet. I’m a ready-made source of conversation fodder.

In the home realm, it’s a sympathy-gainer, too. I’m far more likely to get a backrub and far less likely to have to do the dishes while I’m this heavily pregnant. Though Justin has some perks too- he gets to say things like “You’re getting huge” without fear of reprisal and is likely to not complain about catering to my cravings, since me wanting to go get ice cream means he’ll get ice cream, too.

Overall, the biggest perk is, of course, that soon we’ll have a baby in our lives. For that, I’ll tolerate the inconvenient kicks in the ribs and a month or two of constant heartburn.