Today I am 39 weeks.

Last Friday, I had a pretty intense bout of prodromal labor that didn’t have me calling my midwife yet or rushing to the hospital, but it did leave me thinking labor might be imminent in the days following.  Then Saturday it sort of puttered out, and it all eventually stopped.  Now I am back to being large and still pregnant and completely unable to get comfortable.  I’m also back to assuming she will follow big brother’s timing and arrive something like two weeks from now.  I think I must take a long time to cook a baby.

Do I love being pregnant?  No.  Especially at this stage.  But I realized last night as I was aimlessly cleaning the kitchen and thinking about what we were going to have for dinner that I would be feeling very differently if I wasn’t making the choice to let her come on her own.  Repeat cesareans used to be performed as early as 37 or 38 weeks, but since March of Dimes’ 39 Weeks Campaign has affected hospital regulations recently, most doctors choose to do the surgery at 39 weeks.

Which means, of course, I’d be on an operating table about now.  Or I’d be finally holding my newborn maybe after the hours of separation it takes to recover from surgery.

And while finally holding my newborn sounds really good right now, the idea of CHOICE is sounding pretty good right now, too.  I’m so grateful for the choice to deliver my baby in a way that is accepted by ACOG as safe.  I’m grateful for the research available to help me make that decision.  I’m grateful for the awesome provider I’ve found who supports my choices 100%.  I’m so grateful for the opportunity to let my baby choose her own birthday.

Happy 39 Weeks to me!  Still pregnant.  And happy about that.