On Saturday, Baby Boy and I hit a special milestone: TWENTY FOUR WEEKS. As we all know, this is the marker for viability. I decided to have a little talk with him, in honor of this momentous occasion. It went something like this:
Now, listen here, Young Man. Regardless of this viability rumor we've been hearing, you are not, under any circumstances, to come out anytime in the near future.
His response? A swift kick to my bladder.
Listen, I know you are wanting to come out and play, but trust me on this, it isn't time yet. We can discuss it again at 38 weeks.
Just silence this time.
I hope he was listening. Of course, I am comforted by the fact that should he come any time after this, he would have a fighting change at survival. But I also know that there is no magic time, that bad things could still happen. I'd rather he just hang out for a much while longer, especially since we aren't ready for him to arrive.
Of course, I have to mention Mother's Day, the bain of every Infertile's existence. Even being pregnant this year, I was not really comfortable "celebrating" the day. My mother sent a card, my mother-in-law did, too. I got cards from a couple of friends and several text messages wishing me a happy day. My husband asked me what I would like to do and I said that I didn't want to do anything special. He gave me a sweet card from him and a sweet card "from the baby." Both were very cute and made me cry. But brunches, gifts, corsages? Nope, I wasn't ready for that.
One silly thing did happen on Sunday. I was half-napping on the couch, just dozing in and out, when I felt a rythmic bump, bump, bump. It kept going for so long that I finally realized that it wasn't kicks. . . it was the hiccups. How adorable!