We’re ready … He’s going the distance

The nursery is complete. No, seriously, we have photo evidence.

The hospital bags are mostly packed.

All the essential items, as far as we know, have been purchased, with the notable exception that we still don’t have one of these, greatly reducing the odds he will grow up to be a cage fighter.

We are, as is often said, as ready as we will ever be.

Only one problem: He isn’t.

Tomorrow (Tuesday) will mark 38 weeks, so in theory, he could come any day now. In reality, though, he has shown no sign that he’s ready to bust out of there. Megan is convinced he’s perfectly content to keep on marinating to the bitter end, and at the rate at which her discomfort is increasing, it will be about as bitter as biting into an orange with the peel on and washing it down with a swig of day-old gas station coffee.

When the 37-week appointment didn’t reveal any dilation or effacement, Megan started devoting a significant amount of worrisome energy to the prospect of inducement. There was a time when she thought she would want to be induced as soon as possible if he wasn’t here by the due date. But after more research, that’s a road we don’t really want to go down, if we don’t have to, simply because it seems being induced when you’re showing no progress toward active labor increases the chances of having a C-section.

So, yeah, Megan is ready.

As an aside, the food cravings have kicked in something fierce, and she covets sweet treats. Our trip to the grocery store the other night netted Kraft mac and cheese, smoked sausage, Key lime pie, apple crisp with ice cream, Reese’s pie (my choice) and vanilla ice cream with dark hot fudge syrup.

So, yeah, I have to say I’m ready, too. My stomach and my heart can’t handle eating like this much longer.