My New Favorite Word...

Effacement.

Isn't that a lovely sound? Say it slowly with me: Effacement... EEE---faaaace---mennnnnt.

I am looking forward to the "D" word even more, but for today, my new favorite word is effacement.

Nathaniel and I went to the doctor today. At 8 am, I was all strapped into the LaZBoy recliner at my doctor's office and little boy showed off his cardiac skills - again (noticing a theme? Induction, my foot!). Then, we saw Dr. Harden.

After last week's appointment with the young, perky female doctor who managed to steer me AWAY from conceding to an induction while inducing terror in my mother, I have concluded that I prefer male OBGYN practitioners. It must be something about not having the same equipment and, by virtue of their professional geography, constantly being on the verge of sexual harassment charges that makes them a little more ginger and considerate when speaking to a woman about her obstetrical options. Dr. Harden was no different. The only offense he gave was the slight poo-poo he emitted when I told him I was using Evening Primrose Oil. And, he can snicker if he likes... I'm 60% effaced! Ha!

I only gained half a pound this week, bringing the grand total to just around 15 pounds gained. Since I am taking on additional fluid, baby weight, and going into the "dairy" phase of this scenario, I am fine with weight gain that is up to a pound a week. My blood pressure was 108/80. After witnessing another friend spend a weekend with his swollen wife in WakeMed due to preeclampsia (with a baby only 32 weeks gestated), I am even more thankful for my heart's stellar performance.

In related news, my mother and I took a Monday and had "Nina and Vic's Excellent Adventure" wherein we traveled to Charlotte for the sole purpose of wandering Ikea. It feels like visiting childhood when we step into that God-breathed commercial enterprise. And, while generally maintaining the budget, I got the floor gym for the baby, plus his highchair. Of course, there were a million other things that happened into our shopping cart, all of which were completely necessary and well priced. If any of you care to come to dinner, we now have 4 outdoor chairs on which to sit! Apparently, the rest of the impregnated state had the same idea as we did, as there were pregnant women EVERYWHERE in that store. One of the women we discussed the phenomenon with suggested that the opportunity to walk endless miles in climate controlled environments, without breaking the bank and satiating the nesting impulses made Ikea the pregnant woman's dream... I have to agree.

The nursery now only lacks for the changing table, which I can only pray comes in before HE comes out... but, the twin bed is painted, moved, upholstered, and fitted with beautifully complimentary linens (thanks, mom and dad). I now stand next to the crib and try to coax the baby out, offering him all that free space, in exchange for the release of my bladder, which he has been torturing in the POW camp he's running for my organs lately.

Nathaniel is, also, apparently nesting. Today, he took a break from his work to take care of one of the many chores I have been struggling to schedule: getting Hector trimmed and washed before the baby gets here. Upon leaving Hector at the groomers, Nathaniel surprised me at my office when I was done with my mid-morning meeting, and took me to a FANTASTIC lunch at Lily's pizza. It was the perfect day for such a surprise, and breathed life into the next few hours that last night's disturbed sleep would have otherwise robbed me of! As I type this, we are sitting in his office, where he is playing the music of his favorite composer, Elliott Carter, so that the baby can be exposed to the great works in utero.

I am still working full time and am heeding the nesting impulse at work as well. One case in particular, is working contrary to the resolution plans we had made several weeks ago to cover my maternity leave and allow me to continue my work with this client in May. Being mental health, I suppose one volatile change of plans isn't too bad. Other than that, I am relatively apathetic. Upon watching clients become enraged enough with one another to start dropping "F" bombs on one another in the middle of the office, I simply told them to close the door if they couldn't control themselves appropriately and laughed with the Psychiatrist about how regularly these things happen in our office - typically, I handle the situations like that with a much more carefully evidence-based approach.

Today, however, I am effaced. So, world be damned, we're on our way! Caring about anything but the state of my cervix is just too much effort... a statement I make with a strange mix of pride and angst...

Once our little boy is out, I'll go back to caring about other things...