40 weeks, final countdown

Today is my due date, and as expected, Baby is still cozy in the womb. I'm not worried. Fast-talking midwife was all about induction-fucktion at my appointment, but I just smiled and nodded. It's not worth arguing over. If it comes to that, my regular midwife will be back in town, and I will be the mule who doesn't budge. I honestly don't believe it will be necessary, but it's annoying that it has to be such an issue.

And no one told me there was going to be a non-stress test and an ultrasound, so Michael and I were pretty irritated when we showed up and were ushered into a room with an oversized armchair and monitors. But guess what! He passed the tests! Everything looks perfect. Heart is fine; fluid is fine; he's measuring fine. And he's head down, face down -- position for birth is perfectly fine. (I admit, I feel a little smug.)

I could've punched the midwife. Everything was spoken with that weird, false sympathetic frowny face one might use when speaking to a stubborn child. She tried to dissuade me from walking ("It doesn't do anything and will only exhaust you."). Her vaginal exam felt particularly aggressive. And after a full minute of fishing around up there (where hands were never meant to reach) she decided that I was 2 cm dilated and 60% effaced. I had a copy of my birth plan all printed and ready to hand out, but I decided not to waste it on this woman. She most likely (hopefully!) won't be the one to deliver, and I didn't feel like going down the list of my requests and hearing what she had to say about each one of them.

And getting anyone to fill out the paperwork for my maternity leave is near impossible! The insurance company said they've faxed it to the other office three times, and have gotten no response. I brought a hard copy with me today, and was first told it would cost $25 (???) for them to fill it out. Then I was told it couldn't be filled out until after the baby was born. It's just a form giving proof that they've been treating me, and that I'm not a pregnancy-faking liar. Why do I have to pay money for that? I'm the one who needs to get paid! Why is this so difficult?

If we ever have another child, I'm going home birth, without question. The fear-mongering and bureaucratic bullshit is too much to handle. Even Michael is at the point where delivering the baby himself seems like a more appealing, and far less terrifying, option.

But despite all this exasperation, a lot of my restlessness and anxiety have subsided. I feel calm, and welcome the baby to be born now whenever he's ready. All we would have to do is throw the car seat in the car (deal with it later), shove a couple baby outfits into a bag, along with other various personal care items, and be good to go. I've been sitting here for a couple hours with dull, persistent back pain, and some vague gastro-area discomfort. Maybe brought on by the exam earlier? Or maybe something's getting ready to happen? Or... I might just have to use the bathroom! I can't really tell.