I’ve been terrible about updating here the last month or two. I wouldn’t say the time is flying by, but when I look back it seems to have flown, as we bide our time, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, until the next milestone. And the next, and the next, and the next. So many milestones we’ve made it past, now. There are doctor milestones, which most people in our shoes look forward to, and then there are our own.
Today is another big one for us – 35 weeks. For the doctors this one isn’t so much a milestone – 34 weeks is huge, lung development is generally good and after 34 weeks they won’t take too many measures to stop your labor should that happen. Babies born after 34 weeks are generally fine in the long run. But 35 weeks is big for us because after 35 weeks, especially in babies who’ve received steroid shots and P17 shots like ours has, after 35 weeks if we go into labor and have a baby, more than likely he gets to simply come home with us. No NICU, just, here’s a baby, he’s a wee bit early and maybe you’ll have more trouble with feeding and alertness.
From here on out, every day feels like a huge bonus. Like something we have no right to ask for, but somehow are getting. A week from now, my cerclage will be out and they’ll be “observing” me in the hospital to see if I go straight into labor. If not, I go home and we become more or less normal pregnant people. As if we’re even capable of being those people! Already I’m seeing the early signs, the things your body does to prepare for the end of pregnancy, and this pleases the doctors because that’s how it’s supposed to be at 35 weeks, but it’s hard not to be alarmed. Suddenly my body prepping for labor is no cause for alarm. Does not compute.
This little boy was pegged at 5 lbs 10 oz last week at our ultrasound. They’d expect him to be about 6.5 pounds if he’s born when my cerclage comes out, 8 pounds if I make it to 38 weeks. A healthy-sounding size for a baby, every single one. There’s a car seat in my car, a bassinet in my bedroom, a dresser full of tiny clothing, and I have to keep reminding myself there’s a very real possibility that this weekend is the last weekend we will spend without a child to take care for a very, very long time.