My doctor's appointment went as well as could be expected, I guess. I got the one doctor I'd only seen once before, one that my cousin's wife hates. I don't know why she doesn't like him, he seems nice enough to me, even if his cervical exam still has me a bit tender hours later. Ugh. (Nothing doing down there, by the way, but I totally expected that.)
Anyway, he agreed to induce at 38 weeks, not 37. Apparently they're hesitant to induce before 39 weeks, and he definitely couldn't get down with 37 unless it was really medically warranted, but he's comfortable with 38. I have an appointment with him on the 30th, at which we'll apparently set a date for after the 5th.
This is inconvenient on a few levels - obviously I really didn't want to continue this lifestyle for yet another week after 37 weeks (I did not realize there's some dissenting opinion on what constitutes "full term", 37 or 38 weeks) and on a inconsequential level, it certainly would have been easier to manage things if it all went down before Donovan went back to school, but it's better than nothing I guess.
However, in true paranoid fashion, I started re-hashing my conversation hours after I left, and now I'm freaked out that he's kind of stringing me along. He initially said (verbatim) "Well, we're really not inclined to induce before 39 weeks, but in this circumstance, I certainly have no problem with 38 weeks. I think the risk to the baby would be absolutely minimal at that point in terms of development, and it seems warranted."
But then when I said "So we'll set a date at my next appointment?" He replied, "Make your next appointment for the 30th, make sure it's with me, and we'll check your cervix out and see how you're doing."
I guess he saw that I got a little teary-eyed about things, and he said jovially, "Hey, you can always hope nature will take over before then. How long did you go with your first?"
I gave him my "are you kidding me?" stare and replied, "42 weeks and 2 days." And he said, "...Oh. Well, then, 38 weeks."
But I seriously have my granny panties in a twist about his verbiage in the second exchange, what the hell does "we'll see how you're doing" mean? Why couldn't he have just said "Yep, we'll pick a birthday then." Or am I just being loony?
Merry Christmas to you and yours, folks. Or, whatever holiday you happen to celebrate. Please all enjoy your holiday meals for me, as I will slurping soup from a can that I bring with me to my various festivities, and also knock back a few bottles of wine in my honor.
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