I love canteloupe.

So of course that's the size of our baby this week, which means I'm on a no-canteloupe diet until next Tuesday.  Suck.

Our baby is now 34 weeks developed, leaving 6 weeks for it to pack on some weight and get ready to join this world.  I wonder when it will feel real?  Probably when the little bugger emerges from the womb and we realize we're stuck together for life.  I'm sure there will be crying from both parties as this reality sinks in.

I'd like to take this moment and openly admit that I probably should have (I know there is still time) the baby books.  Instead, I'm using one as a doorstop and the rest have either been returned to their owners who lovingly let me borrow them thinking I'd read them or collecting dust somewhere in our house.  Of course I want to be a good parent!  Of course I want my baby to be happy!  Of course I want him to sleep through the night, be a genius, have perfect pitch, read at age 2, identify portugal on a map at age 3, and roll his R's (this is so much harder than it sounds).  But I just want to do it our way.  :)  I know that the minute I crack a book and begin to learn the "right" way or several "right" ways, I'll lose all self confidence that I can raise this baby into a stable man.  I'll be bogged down with rigidity and rules, which just doesn't work with my personality.

I wonder if after a sleepless night of crying, those books will become a life saver?  Maybe.

I have the same approach to labor & delivery.  Clearly, it's going to happen.  I'm very aware that this baby will exit my body one way or another, but I'm not sure how to develop a plan for it.  How in the world can I plan for something when I have NO idea what it will be like.  I'm playing it by ear.  If I need drugs, I'll ask for them.  If I want to soak in a tub, I'll do it.  If I want to listen to my ipod, I'll be sure that it's fully charged.  My plan is to be open to what my body is telling me.  If that means that I barely make it to 1/2 centimeter before I beg for medical invervention, then I won't be disappointed in that.  If my body tells me that this can't happen, I will clearly pack up my things, politely thank the medical team for their help, and get in my car and head home.

The bottom line is, I trust my doctor.  I believe if she tells me I need something, it's because I really need it.  I also trust Chris and know that he'll have read a ton more than me about labor and delivery, so I can divert decisions to him.

The plan:  be open
The goal:  baby out & healthy
The reward:  TCBY on the way home (oh and a baby)