It is 11:32 p.m. on my due date, and since I'm still experiencing absolutely no labor pains, I think it's safe to say that our baby will be making a late appearance. This is how I feel about that:
(Don't ask my why I get a kick out of posting unflattering pictures of myself to the internet. This one was taken by my mom when I thought she wasn't ready to take a picture yet.)
It only makes sense. I have a fear of libraries because I'm absolutely unable to return books on time. And my college career consisted of turning in late homework. And Murray loves to sleep in. So our little baby comes by it naturally.
It was easy to get through Christmas, because we didn't want him to come before Christmas, but every day since then has been torture. What used to be my cute, smallish pregnant belly has just about doubled in size over the last couple of weeks and I can't walk without waddling. Of course, in an effort to try to induce labor, I've been waddling all over the place. I waddled around Temple Square to see the lights, I waddled around the Largest Dinosaur Museum in the World, I waddled around the Gateway, and I've scheduled more daily waddles in the hope that one day it will work.
Since I was so bored of nothing exciting happening, Saturday night (Sunday morning) at 12:30, I decided that Murray and my mother (who is staying and waiting with us now) should take me to the hospital. Sure, I had a valid reason. It wasn't labor, and we knew the baby wasn't coming, but we all agreed that a hospital trip was in order because none of us could explain my strange symptom (which I will keep to myself, thank you very much---a girl should be able to have some dignity).
So we went and had a wonderful time! They treated me wonderfully in labor and delivery, and I couldn't believe that I was actually put in a delivery room. It felt like a trial run for the real thing! I figured it would be convenient to go into labor right then, but the baby didn't agree, so he just stayed put. They did a non-stress test to make sure that he was doing okay, and he's doing just fine. Here's a picture of me kicking back at almost 2:00 a.m. If you'll notice the monitor, the blue lines indicate some contractions, but really it was just a fit of uncontrollable laughter when my mother made fun of me for my undignified reason for going to the hospital.
Hopefully I'll be posting more pictures like this soon, but of me being slightly less cheery, a little more exhausted, and a new little bundle of joy in my arms.