Patience, young grasshopper

Well, I've always said that Ryan will teach us far more than we'll teach him. This week's lesson: Patience. We just got back from our 38 week appointment, and it appears that Ryan's not going to be showing up anytime really soon. Dr. Hedges says, "Oh, don't worry. I've only had one mom this year that went past 42 weeks." 42 WEEKS!! The Braxton Hicks contractions I've been having aren't doing a whole lot to get the process going. He's in no hurry, but he's got to come out and meet everyone sometime. The good news is that Ryan's heartbeat was strong and speedy this morning, probably on account of the yummy french toast breakfast we had before the doctor's appointment. So he's doing fine, loving life in the Mommy hammock, putting on weight, and giving us a chance to practice all of our labor and birthing relaxation techniques.

This means that our whirlwind "Oh Lord, we're having a baby, we'd better go out to eat/go to the movies/get a haircut/clean out that closet/go work out/watch a DVD from start to finish/sleep in" marathon will continue for a few more days, at least, or more. I fully expect my water to break somewhere very embarassing. It definitely beats sitting around the house, though I have developed a new style of cooking I like to call "Hormonal Gourmet." It's what happens when someone who previously spent 10-15 hours a week on the bike is benched (beached?) while her wonderful hubbie is out getting in breakaways and challenging sprints and will be hungry when he gets home. I couldn't make soup when this whole journey started out (well, I made very putrid soup once, but that's a story for over drinks). Now, I've got a big tupperware bin of homemade blackbean soup in the freezer that's to die for. And I can also make cornbread from scratch to go with it. Not bad, considering for the first 4 months of this pregnancy, I was sure I'd been poisoned and didn't want anything to do with food.