I learned a few things while at the doctor’s office today. For starters, I am only 35 weeks and 6 days. That means I potentially have to live this way for another 5 weeks. I wasn’t particularly pleased with this realization. And I can’t get my weeks straight for the life of me. But I was informed that my cervix is currently a half a centimeter dilated.
“You will not be having this baby next week.” She told me.
The baby is in the right position but he’s still moving around like a madman. While we watched his tiny body on the monitor, we were able to see his face. He looks exactly like his father. They have the same nose and cheekbones. He has the same round, chubby face as well.
“I think this little guy is going to look like his father.” She said.
“Damn recessive genes.” I mumbled.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t get an accurate reading of the little dude’s weight and size because he wouldn’t stop moving. (Go Baby Ndugu! Dance!)
“He’s still in orbit.” She told us.
Lately, I have had some pretty irritating pain in my upper right abdomen. It feels like he’s either on top of, below, or hanging onto my ribcage. And so today I asked her to let me know what he’s building in there. Well, as it turns out, not only is he repeatedly kicking me in that one spot, but his arms are up there as well. So it’s his ass, his legs, or one of his hands causing me so much discomfort.
“Why are his hands all the way up there?!” I bitched. “Is he grabbing his foot?”
“I don’t think that’s what he’s after.” She said with a smirk.
I’m a dense person. And I have grown more dense in my 30s. Her hint went right over my head.
“My heart? My boobs? What is he doing with hands all the way up there? Is that normal?”
Toby looked at me and chuckled. “His penis, silly. He’s reaching for his penis.”
He’s not even out of the womb yet and he’s already found his penis. I have a little boy inside of me who may or may not be reaching for his penis.
Nature is weird.