You have been amazing. You have done a great job sheltering and nurturing this little boy for nearly 10 months now. You have performed admirably, and I am very proud of you and your buddy, the cervix of steel. Even while the rest of my body has tried to work against this pregnancy, with blood pressures rising and all, you have held strong and created a safe home for this booger. While so many women with prior pre-term births constantly have to worry about contractions and whether this or that twinge is the beginning of early labor, you haven't tensed at all. You are one calm, cool and collected uterus, you are.
But here's the deal: you're about to get sliced open. Like, the doctor is going to cut you. Open. And pull a baby out of you. And it won't be pretty for either of us. (But then again, what way of extracting a human out of another is actually pretty?) It will do, and the designated butcher is quite a good surgeon who will be very gentle with you and the other layers of me that have to be cut through in order to get to you (7 layers in all, I believe), but still...you gonna get cut. On Monday. That's five days from now. Sliced.
But you have an out! We are 38 weeks, 2 days pregnant now. That's a lovely time to have a baby. I know 39 weeks is better; I've seen my March of Dimes graphics and everything. I know Baby James' big old brain could use another few days cooking inside before he meets the big, wide world. So I'm cool waiting another few days.
But if you don't start doing SOMETHING soon, there's going to be no way for you to avoid the big c-s. I mean, something! You've been so mellow this entire pregnancy that I have never even felt a single contraction. Some uteri are gettin' all busy by now, at least with those Braxton-Hicks contractions. But you, no, you are one cool cucumber. Or maybe more like a very mellow hollowed out watermelon at this point. I mean, I know I'm generally in the business of asking uteri NOT to contract so as to keep their precious contents safe, but, really, it's about time for you to pep up. So c'mon, give me a squeeze or two, just to let me know there's a CHANCE you might decide to pop this baby out on your own before Monday. Seriously, if you and Ms. Cervix of Steel show us a little action, we might be able to put off the surgery in hopes that you will end things on your own terms. But right now, you're giving me nothing. So we are set to be sliced.
And if that's how we have to go, that's fine. But I'm just saying that I *think* you'd probably prefer to avoid the scalpel. I mean, I could be wrong, but who wants to be sliced open at 7:30 in the morning? I mean, really. Still, I can't complain about you. Even with Becca's clusterf*&^ of a pregnancy, you performed admirably. So we're cool. Buuuut...I want you to go into this process fully informed.
Ball's in your court, uterus. Quite literally. How you gonna play it?