Place Your Bets!

The betting has begun (for bragging rights only). Based on the fact that the last two babies to whom I gave birth were girls, the fact that both were late, the fact that my due date is July 19 and the fact that Tempest is not behaving anything like the other two, the bets stand thus (I’m using initials because I don’t have nicknames for everyone):

R.D.     Girl       July 04

L.S.      Boy      July 12
M.A.    Boy      July 15

C.D.     Girl       July 17

K.P.      Boy      July 18

A.F.      Girl       July 19

J.H.      Boy      July 20

D.S.     Girl       July 20

A.K.    Boy      July 21

D.G.    Girl       July 21

J.S.      Boy      July 25

S.V.     Boy      July 27

As for me, I’m just hoping that I’ll go into labor spontaneously instead of having to be induced. I talked with I.F. briefly at our appointment about things I’d like to try to avoid this time. I would really like to go into labor on my own. If I do, I don’t want an IV unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I’d like to be able to walk around and have the option of giving birth in a position other than on my back. I want the doctors to let the placenta expel itself, rather than going in and scraping it out for me. (Take the time to stitch me up if I tear again; thus giving my uterus time to expel the placenta on its own. Doing it that way when I had Pooka worked nicely.)

My next appointment is on February 5^th with Dr. Badass. WHEE! Then we have our sex-determining ultrasound on February 26^th, and another appointment with Dr. Badass. Originally it was going to be the 25^th and we were going to see Dr. Firstname, but I.F. has more time available on the 26^th, and that works out better for seeing Dr. Badass, who is flat-out my favorite obstetrician of all time, ever.

Pooka was FABULOUS in concert last night. She sounds incredible when she sings at home, but on stage my baby girl truly shines. I was completely blown away. Seriously. I am one proud Mommy to have such a talented munchkin. My uncle asked if I had any buttons left on my shirt (from swelling with pride). I told him I was smart and wore a stretchy shirt. But the truth is, I need to wash it in cold water and dry it on super-hot and hope like crazy that it’ll shrink back down to its original size.

The video is short and sideways and blurry and shaky because yours truly is a crummy videographer, so just close your eyes and listen.