My problem is that I don’t know how to explain the extent of my feelings to Rob. He would like to end our chances for conception with a vasectomy. While not 100 percent fail-safe, it’s a pretty sure bet that we’d not conceive again. He would like the freedom of a spontaneous sex life -- no worries, all fun. Me? I know that I’ll never look at sex the same way again. I’ve never enjoyed our time together as much as I have when we were specifically trying to conceive these two, nor have I felt as good about myself physically. All that would be gone as a result of a simple surgical procedure. I’m afraid that, for me, Rob’s form of birth control would have a negative effect on our sex life. We may never have another baby, but at least the potential is there, the option still exists. In my mind, there’s hope.
In the meantime, life progresses. We’ve worked to clean up the baby’s room and wash all the tiny clothes that Jacob wore at birth. We’ve bought diapers, cloth and disposable. We’ve set up the crib (why I don’t know because the baby will be with Rob and I for at least a while). We’ve talked to Grammy who is going to watch Jacob for us at the hospital and made sure that some necessary car repairs are being fixed as I type. Through all this, Rob’s been called in to work a second overnight shift in the span of five days. I’ve asked that he tell his boss that this is the last time before the baby because I don’t need him to have worked a 14 hour shift and then come home to find me in labor. He needs to be as well rested as possible so he can not only help me but assist with Jacob when needed. (Fortunately I think his boss will be accommodating, as he has two kids of his own, not much older than Jacob.)
The week ended with a trip to the midwife. A weight check revealed that I’d only gained a pound. Measurements check out fine, so the thought is that my recent illness may have affected my weight. My belly technically measured a centimeter small, but it was determined that the head descended quite far into my pelvis, thus the measurement was no cause for concern. A check of the heartbeat revealed the same contented baby as last week. Then came the moment of truth. We found that the now achy, and seemingly constant contractions, have left me a mere two centimeters dilated, but I was hardly effaced at all. I could be two centimeters dilated for the next three to five weeks, but it does signal that the end is near, like it or not.
All in all, I like it, and I’m very excited to meet my baby.