(This is a recovered draft that I found in Blogger-Land. It's not finished, but enjoy!)
Small Fry's due date was Thursday. September 23rd. I can't imagine not having her in my life, and I certainly cannot imagine having to wait 3 more weeks for her to come into the world. This seems like the slowest 3 weeks ever - couldn't fathom still being pregnant with her!
People ask me if I thought the doctor's messed up my due date and I honestly don't think so. The month before I found out I was pregnant, I took a pregnancy test. December 16th. It was negative. The next day, I got my period. On December 22nd, I had minor surgery for a cyst on my ovary. They did a blood test this time to make sure I wasn't pregnant before they cut into me. It came back negative, I went through with the surgery, my fertility was restored and I conceived sometime after New Years Day. January 20th, we found out we were expecting again, 5 weeks into the pregnancy.
My doctor was pretty sure that I wasn't going to get pregnant with the cyst on my ovary and with the other tests, I'm positive I wasn't. But at 37 weeks, I delivered at healthy 7lb, 5oz baby girl who, I believe, would have grown to 9lbs+ if she had stayed in until 40 weeks! No thank you!
I'm glad I delivered when I did. I'm glad she was healthy. I'm glad our bags were packed and Tater Tot was staying with our good (flexible) friends who took her in for just 3 hours at first, then over night, then one night more! I'm grateful my doctor broke my water in the bed instead of it happening while I was at work or in the car. I carried around a dark towel and wore dark pants, just in case.