Ah pride! Refusing to use the maternity valet service, with my bladder ready to explode and the only parking spot requiring a five mile walk in 90 degree humidity. Pride, you bitch, I hope you get a nice case of the clap.

I should know better than to expect any definitive action when meeting with the midwives of my OBGYN practice. Internal check? Not necessary...increases risk of bacteria. All that hubbub about size and fluid?  It was shrugged it off as “still really normal,” nothing to be concerned with, nothing to do, nothing to see here, please pull around.

Pilot fish is measuring at 40 weeks, heart rate at 130. My blood pressure is 120/60 and I managed to pack on three pounds in a week, which might be water retention or it might be mint mocha frappuccinos…who’s to say?

I made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t going to wait until 41 weeks. No way am I going to risk going through another delivery like the last one. True to form, when I told her this, supported with all of my reasons, she just nodded sympathetically, but gave no indication of actually agreeing with me.

Hey, mom! How would you like to birth a head THIS BIG?

So, I’m going to struggle through another week until next appointment, which I’ve made with one of the doctors of the practice. We’ll see if I get a little more feedback than “do some squats and nipple stimulation in front of the television at night.” That should get the neighbors talking.