Am I going to go past my due date? I’m beginning to think this is a real possibility.  And, as much as I don’t want to do that because I want to meet the baby, be done being pregnant (2 YEARS of this.. seriously), yada, yada, yada, my true motivation is to avoid ANY more appointments with my OB.  I’m not sure I can stand the awkwardness any longer.

A little perspective before I get into the details:

When I was pregnant with Noah, we lived up north in Buellton, California since I was then stationed at Vandenberg Air Force Base (I know, I’ve blocked it out of my head, too).  Fortunately, the Air Force base did not have a hospital on base, so we could pick any doctor contracted with the military to be our OB.  I did a little research and realized that that this was not exactly going to be an expansive search.  Because we lived in such a small town, I decided to pick a doctor near the hospital in Lompoc, California.  You might know Lompoc as the home to a large Federal Penitentiary. Otherwise,  you probably don’t know it at all.  Yes, it’s quite the locale, and this is where we would be having our baby.  At any rate, I found a doctor with shockingly mixed reviews (“absolutely awesome doctor!” / “embarrassed and demoralized” — seriously – read this review.  I have no doubt this conversation took place). I figured I’d take my chances on this fellow. Dr. Huss is one of those small town doctors who has been delivering babies for decades, and he delivers almost all of his patients’ babies.  He’s a no-nonsense -the baby’s fine, you’re fine -I’ll tell you straight up if you’re too fat-but will write you a doctor’s note for anything you need – kinda guy.  Bottom line: Good choice by me.

So then we moved down to Orange County at the beginning of the year, and lo and behold — pregnant again!  I decided to quickly find an OB at one of the bigger practice groups because it seemed like an easy solution.  So I did. I asked for someone at their smaller Irvine office and I got assigned a doctor. And, well, it’s awkward. I knew from day 1 it was awkward, yet I kept pressing ahead, thinking maybe things would improve, maybe she’d take a course in bedside manner, maybe she’d decide to have a personality, maybe her nurse would stop making uncomfortable comments to me [like when I brought my son in at my 35 week appointment, after talking about my… well.. SON for the preceding 30 weeks (and bringing him in sporadically), and she asks if she, “can hold her. ” I tell (remind?) her that he’s a boy.  Her reply: “uhh, pink shorts, mom!” What?  Or, more recently, after weighing me one week after Noah’s birthday: Nurse: (more to herself than to me): “Oh, so it WAS the birthday cake…”  Me: “What?” Nurse: “Well, you lost weight since last time.”]

So every week I go and make awkward small talk with the most awkward people of all time who can’t seem to remember one fact about me amidst their tens of patients.

The upside, perhaps: The only doctor in the practice group who delivers the baby is the one who’s on call.  I think it’s safe to say that I would have the same level of comfort with a complete stranger as with the one I’ve been seeing for the past 40 weeks.  SO STRANGE!

Now the big question: will I get MY doctor to deliver the baby?  Andy asked her today when she’s on-call

“Tomorrow.”

I have been fully intending to do a 10-day baby countdown à la Noah’s 10-day countdown.  However, as I suspect many things with baby #2 will be, here is a half-assed attempt to do what I did the first time.  And so we begin with the 5-day countdown.

Me pregnant. With Noah. I didn’t have time for a leisurely maternity beach shoot this time around, but I think I look generally the same.

5 Days to Go…

My due date is October 19, 2014, or so I’ve been told.  That means today is the 5-day countdown, and I honestly couldn’t feel any better, i.e. I have no symptoms of labor, real or imagined as far as I can tell.  Oddly enough, yesterday I was NOT well, but I suspect it had nothing to do with the baby.  I was dizzy, nauseated, and felt generally terrible.

So, I decided that Cherkasky Law could give me a little vacation day (I’m kidding. We never stop hustling at CL), and I went to get a massage at my favorite Asian Reflexology massage place – Jade Foot Massage.  Now, if you’ve never been to one of these establishments, you need to go immediately.  You can get an hour massage for $25 and the only (semi-questionable) trade-off is that you’re on a little cot in a dark room packed with strangers also getting massaged mere inches from your body.  Don’t worry –  clothing IS required.  However, I would highly recommend going in some sort of “workout” outfit to get the best massage (no workout required, and if you’re wearing yoga pants, there is no way anyone can affirmatively prove you aren’t coming immediately from or going immediately to the gym). Oh, I should mention that I called before I went to ask if I could still get a massage at 39+ weeks pregnant, and they had no concerns – also a clear sign of legitimacy.  (but seriously, last year when I was pregnant with Noah up in Buellton, I called so many massage places and no one would take me since they didn’t have a “certified prenatal massage therapist.”  I told them I’d waive all liability, but they were no Jade Foot Massage).

So, I settled onto my cot on my side with a big pillow  (see – very accommodating of pregnant women) and the lady covered me with a blanket.  I believe the massage was underway for about 30-45 seconds when I suddenly started feeling very HOT and sweating profusely.  My  breathing became shallow and I wondered if I’d retain consciousness.  I tried to ignore the symptoms of my body potentially shutting down for the sake of getting a good massage and most importantly avoiding the full-on scene I was going to have to cause in the full room of fellow massage clients.  (What better way to celebrate Columbus Day, after all, than to indulge in a mid-afternoon Asian massage?)  But I couldn’t take it any longer.  I bolted up and threw the blanket off of me.  My masseuse was not fluent in English (I mean, she knew the basics such as harder, softer, tip, etc)., but she did not understand what was happening.  “I’m too hot!!” I whispered in a loud whisper. “I need to go!”  She looked at me for a moment then tried to physically push me back down onto the cot.  I started whispering more frantically, holding the blanket off of me.  She finally understood and we somehow (without words) came to an understanding that I could continue my massage in a seated position on the cot against all protocol, I’m sure.  I’m happy to report that the rest of the massage really took a turn for the better, and I got out of there feeling great!

Now, the bad news – I still feel great! I mean, I have absolutely no signs of any impending baby or labor or significant bodily function whatsoever.  Last time, as my loyal blog readers will recall (I mean, I only write once every 2-6 months, so it’s not a huge commitment), I suffered from sporadic, unbearable back stabbing pains for weeks prior to the birth, so that gave me something to latch onto.  With this one: Nothing!!

So that’s where I’m at: NOWHERE.  I have another doctor’s appointment in the morning, and I hope that I will get some sort of “news” about progression.  I will update you all tomorrow (unless no one is reading this, in which case I’ll go back to writing memoranda about sexual assault. Almost as entertaining).