Yes, ladies and gentlemen, yesterday was the magical day the health profession gave us when we showed up with our positive pregnancy test. And . . . Tadpole has decided that it will NOT be his birthday. I feel strangely okay with this. I actually feel better, in some ways, about waiting now than I did two weeks ago. Maybe that's because I've had a lot of practice since then.
The Birth Center is comfortable letting me go up to two weeks like this, since everything has been fine, and Tadpole is still nice and healthy. And I'm comfortable with that, too. I would rather not have to be induced in the hospital (although I absolutely will if I have to), so I will be spending the next two weeks walking, squatting, and generally trying every safe method I know of to encourage things along. The Birth Center has a pretty decent success rate with this kind of thing, too, although some of their last resorts can be a little less . . . gentle . . . than I am hoping for. (castor oil, anyone?)
Anyway, just be praying that Tadpole decides to come out sometime between now and February 7th, and until then, enjoy the Due Date picture we took to commemorate. (They tell me I'll be glad I took these. I don't believe them yet.)