Pregnant woman of the year

Today I am 34 weeks and 5 days pregnant. It has been about 3 weeks since my doctor said he guessed I'd have a week at the most. As uncomfortable as this stage of pregnancy has become for me, I pretty much feel like pregnant woman OF THE YEAR.

However, yesterday afternoon I had some spotting and cramping. Not as all dissimilar to how I felt when I went into labour with Lily.

Needless to say I was NOT in labour. Who writes a blog while in labour? But this is what Dr Cattnach had to say.

Our son has taken up his home right in my pelvis, head down, THANK GOD. My stitch has begun pulling out and I can expect spotting and cramping for the rest of the time I am pregnant, whether it is three days or three weeks. He could remove the stitch now, but he didn't want to. Doing that would either do nothing at all or speed things up. He doesn't want to speed things up, because while our son would indeed be very healthy at this gestation, his best chance of success in school, sport, music and pretty much any pursuit he cares to take on is to be born at 38 weeks+ and at least 3 kilos. He also said that the children who statsically do the best academically and so on are are those born at 40 weeks+ and at least 4 kilos. I wanted to tell him to stick his imaginary giant, over due baby up his butt, academic success and all.

I also wanted to laugh at him when he quickly added this didn't mean there was anything wrong with Lily. I wanted to laugh because my child is probably the clumsiest, most gumby child I have ever met. She must fall over or off something at least once a day. Bob has long since given up any dreams he had of her playing for Australia in women's soccer. She IS smart, pretty and stubborn though, so there's still quite a lot she can do with her life, despite her daddy's disappointment. Bob also begged his unborn son to stay in until 38 weeks so he can be a pro footballer. Yeah, I thought, rugby league. (Just joking. As long as they don't turn out white supremicists or something equally as horrifying, we'll be happy and proud as long as they are happy.)

So, at 37 weeks, my stich will officially be cut and until then, we're still playing the anxious waiting game.

Here's to 9 months of pregnancy!