That’s right: it’s the milestone:
Thirty-Seven weeks, y’all. The baby is pretty much done baking. Now starts the “official” waiting game. Technically there is no more true development –haha– past this point, but the baby is just putting on a few more pounds and primping up for the début.
I can’t say that I’m too desperate for getting the kid out, but three weeks seem relatively doable. Just no more than three –or maximum four– weeks. Although in the back of my mind I can imagine the kid holding out until the sun moves into Capricorn, I think my sciatic nerve and my pelvis might take exception to that decision.
Talking about pelvises: the second antenatal class was last night.
Alas, there was no Zero and annoying-wifey to amuse us. Either they are too cool for Lamaze, or they had the baby early. Last night we got kind of a workout, too. We were encouraged to open the pelvis and to embrace our inner stripper: the instructor recommended that bumping and grinding might not only land us a fat $20 in the kitty, but it might also help the baby descend and turn and speed up labor.
To be honest, last night’s class felt a little bit like “How to Make Out With Your Spouse” rather than Lamaze. And not that I object, really: it’s fun to pretend to do some “labor work” when all you’re really doing is getting groped in the name of postive energy and “keeping the labor coccoon going.” However there is a mildly orgiastic undertone that some people were definitely not comfortable with in having to share the make-out technique experience with eleven other couples whose name you only remember vaguely from session number one.
I will say though: having a hippie for an instructor is pretty cool. She’s quietly urging us to rebel and stan our ground against traditional Western medicine, while only deriving benefits from those parts we might need.
Selfish? Eh, maybe. But honestly– and this is a very weird admission coming from me– I actually feel like the classes are working, if only for one thing: I actually feel more confident about the day of the birth, and about doing what’s right for me. I will probably still freak out and hyperventilate or whatnot, but at least I had something to prepare me for having the option of not doing it.
So there. I am actually, and unsarcastically, glad and thankful for this class.
Something will be coming out from “down there” in a month’s time. I am freaking out.