A non-update update from the 38-week doctor’s appointment Wednesday:
Effacement? Nope.
Dilation? Nada.
Numbers that don’t really mean anything to me? He’s minus-2, which I excitedly assumed to mean he’s going to be a very good golfer, but it apparently has something to do with how far his head has dropped in the pelvis, or something like that. (Answer: Not very far.)
Megan, meanwhile, has moved past uncomfortable and is teetering on the precipice between miserable and hating the world.
We’re due back to see the doctor next Friday, which is four days before the due date. Hopefully he will have made a couple bogeys by then — my sources (read: The Interwebs) tell me the “station” is measured from minus-5 to plus-5, with plus-5 being the point at which there is much screaming and gnashing of teeth and saying mean things to the husband.
Stay tuned …
I was stuck at 1 cm dilated for a while and minus whatever number and not effaced and I ended up going in to labor a week early. so, there’s hope! just think, in a matter of less than the number of fingers and toes he’ll be here!