There’s nothing to update. I’m still just hanging out pregnant. But this small yet seemingly endless time has taught me one thing: everything means nothing.

Walk. Do squats. Bounce on an exercise ball. Chug jalapeños. Have your membranes stripped. Shoot caster oil. Lose your mucus plug. Dilate. Efface. Hold a pencil over your stomach. Carry high. Carry low. Crave sweets. Crave salt. Think your stomach dropped. Cry endlessly. Join a trick jump rope squad. Bareback a pony. Drink red wine. Slam eggplant parmesan. Yodel. Accept the fact that she’s just comfy in there! Hiiiiiiiiiii. Everything means nothing.

But I don’t mind being pregnant for an extra week because being pregnant is the funnest! I am marvelous at going with the flow and accepting the unknown and being super cool with having no idea what could potentially come next. What’s that saying? Make plans and God laughs? Well that makes two of us! Hahahalolzzz!

But if I’ve learned anything in these year-long days, it is that nothing really means anything. Nothing predicts anything. Nothing suggests something. Everything means nothing.

Now I also have to say this. I have felt that this baby has been a girl for most of this pregnancy and I have not been shy about sharing that. Wishful thinking could have attributed to the convincing, but I’ve said it a million times – if there is any sort of truth to intuition, this child is a girl. Therefore, I give birth to a girl, I CNTR+ALT+DEL this entire post. I give birth to a boy, I go full on official existentialist.

But here is what has been going on.

I went to my forty-week appointment and the doctor really got my hopes up. She said she was shocked with my body’s progress. She said she was shocked I hadn’t felt any cramping. She asked if I’d like her to do anything to jumpstart labor. I of course said yes. She did. She said it should work within twenty-four hours. She said she’d be shocked if I made it through the weekend. Call on Monday if nothing happened, but she’d be shocked if I had to.

I walked out of the office paralyzed with fear. I was afraid to walk. The news made it seem like this baby was falling out at any second. Kenny took off work. We texted all of our friends and family to stand by for news in twenty-four hours. We went to breakfast, returned something to Target, then installed the car seat and packed the car. My dad came and picked up the dog. Then we waited. We watched Netflix all day and then we went to bed. I couldn’t sleep. The doctor said things usually happened at night. Something to do with barometric pressure.

Then I woke up Saturday like I had every other morning. I really had to pee and it was a nightmare to roll over. I was no longer scared. I had the energy to take matters in my own hands. We did rounds of squats. I was up for walking all day. We got dressed and went out. We got coffee at Happy Belly on Vine and called it a good luck charm. We walked around the City Flea. We got pizza at A Tavola. Then after a few hours and me feeling super exhausted, we went home and I burst into tears. I felt no different and nowhere close to having a baby. I sat on the couch and tried to watch tv.

Kenny suggested we at least go sit on the porch. Friends invited us to get a drink with them at Pearl’s. I burst into tears at the thought of it. I couldn’t put on the one black maxi dress that I had been wearing for a month. I was sick of feeling my armpits. I was sick of feeling the top of my thighs. I didn’t want to try and be funny about still being pregnant. I couldn’t serve up the “I’m walking this baby out” line again. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want anyone to ask how I was doing. Kenny had to tell our friends that and they promised they’d ignore the elephant. I felt bad that I had to do that. But I felt bad that Kenny was being such a trooper for me. There was no reason to sit around and wallow so I rallied.

I got dressed again and went and had two nonalcoholic beers. I finally ate at Zip’s. Kenny gave me a gift he was saving for after the baby. He was great at maintaining the positive attitude. He bet me it would happen that night. Then the next morning I woke up the same way I had for the last month.

Sunday we tried the same thing with a little less enthusiasm. We went to breakfast and walked around Rookwood. We tried to make jokes. We made plans for dinner but chose not to grocery shop for the week because we figured we wouldn’t need it. But then our patience with kindness and consideration hit its breaking point. It was my fault, not Kenny’s. He kept trying and I was over it. I no longer felt like being hopeful or proactive.

I then woke up Monday and made that phone call the doctor thought I wouldn’t have to make. I waited for what felt like forever for my favorite doctor to call me back. I did not know what my options were and I did not know how to make an educated decision as to what I could or should do. I was obviously hoping she would tell me to just go ahead and come on in and we would just get this thing going. Not the case. For all intents and purposes, I was, and am, having a normal pregnancy. We would reconvene at the forty-first week mark. I just had to keep waiting. I cried and then took a three-hour nap.

And that has really been it since then. I have just been waiting. Kenny finally hit his positivity breaking point yesterday. I think he really wanted an All-Star baby. But it has still been the same old, same old. I sat at Awakenings for a few hours yesterday, then walked around Kenwood. I bought three Gap maternity sweaters on super sale, which is roughly three more than I’ve purchased throughout the whole of my pregnancy. I got home, made oatmeal cookies, and cleaned up. I took a shower hoping maybe there would be that possibility that it could happen that night. But then I woke up this morning the same way I had for the last month. There is officially no more maybe preparing because there are no signs of what’s to come, there are no necessary rituals that need to be preformed. I might go down in history as the first woman to give birth to a toddler after a sixty-eight week gestational period.

All jokes and mental stressing aside, this baby will be here with some intervening this weekend. This joy ride will come to an end and now we can all get excited and anxious about finding out what it is. That, my friends, will be the real test of sanity and thought and philosophy…stay tuned.

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  • Reply Thread Cincinnati » update July 15, 2015 at 11:21 am

    […] update […]

  • Reply Liz (26 and Counting) July 15, 2015 at 11:30 am

    Hang in there Katie, sending you lots of positive vibes! And if you need a Netflix or HBO recommendation just let me know!

  • Reply Erin @ The Busy Girl's Shopping Companion July 15, 2015 at 12:04 pm

    Aw! I don’t even know how to respond without sounding cliche – “you poor thing,” “one day you’ll be able to look back and laugh” or “enjoy these extra days with real sleep because you’ll never have them again!” – but even though they’re all true (I swear!) I know you’re probably so sick of hearing that! So all I will say is thank you for sharing that roller coaster of emotion! Good luck!

  • Reply Danielle July 15, 2015 at 1:32 pm

    I think my now 8-year old would still be in utero if I wouldn’t have had an intervention! If it makes you feel any better (it won’t now but maybe later), my second one literally slid out, right on time. Hang in there…oh wait, that’s not the best adage. Let’s go for “good luck” instead! :)

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