Stable

Yup. He was just hiding again.

Greetings!

Today’s appointment went well. My cervix has been deemed stable from when we first went into alarming mode. According to beloved Dr. Ralston, stability is a good thing. It’s a success in part because thirty weeks is that much further along than twenty-six, but also because the fear is that once a cervix behaves incompetently, you worry that it’s just going to get worse and worse until a total shitstorm ensues. My cervix, while incompetent, has maintained the same baseline level of incompetence. I think of it as the difference between hiring someone who seems kind of ineffectual at first and then descends into disaster such that you have to fire him, and someone who skates by at a substandard level, but is never so egregiously awful as to merit dismissal. My cervix, for now, is behaving more like the latter. It could change its mind and start huffing paint or running off to Uzbekistan with the next hottie it meets, but for now it’s bumbling along. Huzzah!

So I asked Dr. Ralston if he wanted to see me again, and if he wanted to see my cervix again. He said that he did not want to see my cervix (the first time a man has turned down that offer, let me tell you!), but he did want to see me, hopefully when I come in to deliver a healthy baby! And, because I’ve made it to thirty weeks, I no longer have to submit to the ultrasound dildo! Now I can just have awkward manual exams (hopefully not involving the excruciating speculum) like any normal pregnant woman. Essentially, the high risk folks don’t feel the need to see me again unless something changes: contractions, cramping, discharge (sorry!), etc. Although of course they’re there if I have any questions or concerns–something at which I tend to excel. Don’t worry. The ultrasound tech asked today if Herr Husband and I were doctors because of our excessive questioning, use of jargon, and adamance that we speak to the attending, not just the fellow. She did not mean it as a compliment.

Now, let’s be clear. It’s not like I’ve been downgraded to the normal pregnancy pool. I’m still on bedrest until I hit full-term (with some possible slight easing around 34 weeks; i.e., sitting in a chair for occasional meals). I still get my progesterone shots. Everyone is glad I got ‘roids and is ready to do a rescue dose should the need arise. I still need to be very aware of what my body is doing. But stable is good. Getting a woman who delivered her last baby at twenty-seven weeks five days to thirty weeks is good.

Das Big Boy and Beejer eat apples. Mo assists.

In other goods, bestie Mo returned from the Left Coast to pay us a visit! (Well, us and her family for, you know, Thanksgiving). We enjoyed a lovely evening of swapping stories, a call from bestie Mrs. Huxtable, discussing my cervix (I don’t have that many other stories these days), and gabbing about her life and work in LA. And of course, Das Big Boy hijinks. Das Big Boy, who has not seen Mo since June, did not respond with the “Bye-bye!” with which he usually greets guests, but was thrilled to see her. He introduced her to chimpanzee cook-offs, “Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, I smell an English muffin,” and hiding.

It was delightful.

Seriously. Couldn’t you just cry at their cuteness?

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all. I’ll check in tomorrow for the big thirty weeks, but you might have better things to do. May we all have so much for which we are thankful, and may we all remember to feel truly grateful for it.