I keep telling myself that I should have more updates on this blog...yet somehow, each time I find the time to sit down and use the computer at home, I can't seem to find any inspiration...

Today is a very special day.
Or at least, if the little one inside me is as anal about punctuality as I am, it will be a very special day.
Today marks the 40-week full-term mark for the little one.
And if the little one is within the 5% margin, I should be in the hospital today, huffing and puffing and then cuddling the little one.

In a way, I feel quite cheated cos back at 34 weeks, those frequent contractions seem to point the way towards an earlier date of delivery. All those worrying and rest and medications until the safety mark of 37 weeks now seem to be a joke on me.

At the 37 week mark, I was then told to be more active, get moving and get labour started because it is safe for the little one to arrive. And I did...or at least I tried to be as active as I can while waddling around with the bump, sore back and swollen feet. But except for 'beautiful' contractions as describe by my ObGyn, nothing else happened.

At 39 weeks 3 days, the instructions were to walk more, climb stairs and do squats. I pushed it to the limit of my body, playing Kinect sports (table tennis, soccer, bowling) and even went to the basketball court to shoot some hoops.

Today, at 40 week, all I have is still 'beautiful' contractions. Not even a hint of a real contraction that I have been mentally preparing myself for. No pain, just a vague aching in the pelvis and an intense tightening sensation over the tummy.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement of the year.
To be more exact, I am disappointed, anxious and really starting to get worried if the little one decides to apply for PR in my womb...
(ok, so that is not medically/scientifically possible...but anything is possible in my hormone-laden brain)
The anxiety is that little one will grow and grow and become too big for me to push out...which means I have to go for a C-section...which is major abdominal surgery and really scares the c*** out of me.
The worry is that the little one will start to run out of space and amniotic fluid...and I'll need to be induced, which means the pain is going to be really bad, which points towards the direction of an epidural...which I am hoping to avoid at all costs because the idea of a needle in my spine is way out of my comfort zone
Basically, I am freaking out big time...about all the possible medical and/or surgical interventions I may have to go through to get the little one out safely

And the disappointment...well, I guess that comes from the perfectionist in me. Subconsciously, I guess I've always expected that the pregnancy will go in a 'textbook' manner. To have come so far only to have no baby to cuddle at the 'expected date of delivery', it feels like I have let myself down or something. I know I know, it is silly and irrational. Babies choose when they want to come, and I can't expect the little one to know that today is supposed to be The Day.

But rational thoughts don't come so easily for me these days. In fact, sometimes I feel myself getting so irrational that I border on being hysterical.

This is indeed a very good time for me to learn to deal with the one of the most important lesson in life: Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.

~waiting and waiting...~