Wahoo! Today is the day of -- well... it's just another day in the third trimester, actually. A day when my ultrasound technician thought, you know what, your placenta's not going to look so hot in 2 weeks, so you should really meet your little girl by then. And here we are, my due date was born. Congratulations to us!
Last week, my midwife specifically asked me not to show up to her office in tears asking why I have no baby yet. She likes to warn her moms that, despite all of the natural induction methods we can muster (and believe me, I have been MUSTERING), the odds of having a pre-due date babe are not in my first-time-mama favour. Yes, Samantha, it feels like everyone around you gets an early surprise baby, but the reality is that most mamas don't, and you yourself were two weeks late to the world so what goes around comes around, sweet-hat.
Thankfully I feel nowhere near this point. I am (right now) of solid understanding that a due date means little to nothing to the one inside my womb and that 90% of women who haven't had their babies yet, will have them within the next 7 days.
How I'm looking at today, is as a two-week countdown to:
"no matter what happens, I will meet my baby within 14 days. In 14 days, my womb is going to go from a sweet, cozy place to a hostile, dangerous place and through whatever method my body or technology needs to do it, there will be a baby Butler in this world. This placenta will expire."
That's a joy worth celebrating. So happy due date.
(Now off I go to eat lots of pineapple and spicy food and walk around the entirety of my city and spend some time with my man and bounce on my exercise ball and visualize and all of the other things we full-termers do to keep busy).
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