Last Wednesday's doctor appointment confirmed what I had already suspected: after 41 weeks of residence, my little girl was unwilling to give up her home. The doctor had already said that 41 weeks was going to be the end for me and we decided to induce. Starting that night.
So we went out to our last lunch together and talked about how we would have a baby, probably tomorrow, and made phone calls to our parents. We went home and packed up. I vacuumed the house. P cleaned the litter box and we asked the neighbors to look after the dogs. We took one last picture of me (ohmygoodness, do I look big!) for my mom, loaded up the car, and headed to the hospital.
I had preregistered, so we were able to head straight up to L&D. I got into my pretty, pretty gown and before I knew it I was hooked up to an IV and strapped to the monitors. I had a nurse and a doctor ask me a billion questions, most of which I had already covered in my paperwork and then with each of them, but I guess they have to ask. When he was done, the resident said, "Good. Now you can have a baby." Funny. Good thing I did that paperwork then. At least he was joking.
Crying baby, more to come.