Nothing to report.
I don't have a photo of my belly but it probably has changed little since last week. I made the mistake of going to bed at 9:30 last night and found myself waking up at 4:30 and completely incapable of returning to sleep. I was also ravenous and raided the kitchen for cereal and strawberries. Now that the belly monster is satisfied, I'm waiting until Dave gets up for work before attempting to fall back asleep. Poor guy only has an hour of sleeping bliss before he has to drag his ass up and my tossing and turning will probably not be beneficial. I, on the other hand, can sleep peacefully all day if I do so chose. Furthermore, I can sleep peacefully all day tomorrow and the next and well probably the next because, well, I can't expect a baby of any relation to my family decide to show up on time. Now THAT would be ridiculous. I might as well milk my time off work and no show baby time as much as I can. Hah! 'Milk my time'....that's funny. Or it's funny if your 40+ weeks and baby delirious like I am.
To celebrate my due date yesterday, Krista and Mel and I went and got pedicures and then had a tasty picnic lunch in the park. The weather was glorious! And now my toes are prettied up for the baby because God forbid his first glance be of ugly feet. I got them painted "Billionaire Red" and the color lives up to the name. Boy Howdie! I like a little flashiness in my life these days - disregard the fact that I can hardly bend over to see my toes. Later, Dave and I celebrated National Record Store Day by spending ten minutes at the record convention-- 10 minutes is how long it takes for Dave to spend his record purchasing dollar maximum before we have to scoot out of there asap. All in all a good due date.
On the baby no here yet front: I've been having contractions on and off for about four days. These are a step above Braxton-Hicks belly tightening ones and do inflict some measure of pain but nothing I would call home about. I can still walk and talk through them easy enough and that basically means - no bones.
Oh and on a final note, I am now getting labor induction advice from complete strangers. Apparently acupuncture is the way to go. Or acupressure. And sex. And walking. And on and on and on...I've come to realize that being pregnant is sort of like being a teenager. When you're a teenager, you swear you'll never turn out like your parents and then years later you find you're exact replicas of them. When you're pregnant, you'll swear you'll never be one of those parents that doles out unsolicited advice to pregnant women. I guarantee that years down the line, I'll catch myself inflicting all sorts of "advice" on poor pregnant women. Smile and nod. Smile and nod. Note: for those who I know that have provided me with unmeasurable help, advice, and support, this does not apply to you... I am talking about the random waitress, barista, or lady with shopping cart on the street corner who assures me that their fourth child came out early because of some induction voodoo magic.
At this point though, I've heavily researched the topic. The one thing that seems to hold true in ALL cases of labor induction: The baby ain't coming out until it's ready. Simple as that. So no matter how much I circle the neighborhood, hop on one foot, eat spicy food, etc. This baby is not making an appearance until he is damn well ready no matter how damn well ready I feel!