So I’m driving home from my doctor’s appointment yesterday when I come upon a huge traffic snarl on the ramp from 40 to 270 (those of you from St. Louis are not surprised). I was even thinking about how I would get home, call Tim, call my mom, call the doula and then have time to update the blog for you easterners. Alas, I bailed from the ramp and took 40 to Mason, which took me to Manchester, which led me straight to the Baby Depot. It was all downhill from there. Approximately 30 minutes later (and much lighter in the wallet) I emerged and then proceeded home in slow rush hour traffic. By the time I walked in the door, it was 4:30 and half of the people I know were convinced that I had been admitted to the hospital, including my husband. Sometimes a cell phone would be nice, I admit.

So you’re just now getting to hear the big news: I’m 100% effaced and 3 cm dilated! The doctor’s quote was, ‘You can go ahead and make an appointment for next week, but I don’t think you’ll need it.’ Yikes. But I just keep beating my head against the reality that even though I’m so far along, I could still last a couple more weeks! I mean, this guy isn’t officially due until August 6. And you rarely hear about first babies that are early. So I’m trying to stay realistic, even in the face of the couple of interesting contractions I’ve had this morning. Still nothing of any discernable length, but they are more noticeable when they start.

Sorry if I grossed anyone out yesterday with my discussion of pregnancy gore. It has not been that bad, I promise. Sometimes I get alarmed at the idea that I really have no control over this pregnancy. It’s all up to my body to decide when it’s had enough of this little invader and serve him with his eviction papers. I’m just along for the ride at this point.

One interesting development is that my doula is going out of town on Thursday and Friday. Yippee! If I was a betting person (which I am), I’d put my money on either day. It would figure that months of planning and arguing with my mother about the doula would end up with me having to call a back-up once the big event actually came.

That’s it, my friends. I’ve got nothing else for you right now. I’m just trying to work as much as I can on client business today, while keeping my mind occupied on something other than, ‘Is that it? Was that a contraction?’ and feeling around on my belly. I swear, I’m going to have bruises! My mom and Tim are on the alert, though, so rest assured that I won’t deliver this baby in a closet like your childhood cat.

All together now: C’mon, baby!