I wrote a story a few months ago about having my daughter six weeks early and freaking it would happen again.
Well, I have made it past that point. I had my daughter at thirty-four weeks and I am currently thirty-five weeks, five days. My cervix is closed up and she is not engaged at all. She is just kinda floating around and staying put. My doctor is confident I will go until forty weeks. I wouldn’t mind going until forty-one.
I know, I know—no woman WANTS to go over. Most start to get frustrated if they hit thirty-nine weeks and the baby is still in. All I know is, this is the only time in my pregnancy that I have been able to relax and actually enjoy being pregnant. Even with fighting gestational diabetes and having to poke my arms everyday and watching my diet. I am having a blast and I am in new territory. Never have I been this far along. I told my doctor that I am clueless and if he thinks everything is fine then I believe him. I’m just fine and so is my little Sunflower. (Not her real name, just something my four-year-old decided to call her until her daddy comes up with a name.)