Tomorrow
Looks like we're inducing Sunday morning, 7:30am!
I went and had my blood pressure checked yesterday afternoon, and it had gone up more. I had two options: induce Sunday or come back Monday morning for another check. If it hadn't gone down, he would want to induce then. I chose Sunday. My body seems like it is primed up anyway and ready for a small push over the edge.
We thought about not telling anyone that we were going to induce. Just "Surprise!" afterwards. I mean, that's how it would be if I went into labor on my own. But we went ahead and called the ole' parental units. After each of us got off the phone, we looked at each other and knew we should have just waited. Are all parents this way? What I want as an adult "child" is a "Hooray! We're so excited! We'll be praying for you!" Not "Are you sure that's the right decision? What did the doctor say?" (Um, he suggested it.) "Have you checked your insurance to make sure your hospital stay is covered?" (Um, that's usually why you have insurance...) "Well, you need to be lying down until then." (Aye aye, capt'n.)
I know that parents do this second-guessing, nagging, half-scolding thing because they love us. I know this. It is firmly planted in my head. But when is it time to let go? Not stop the loving, just stop the parenting. I'm already worried about this with my own child. Thirty years from now, I don't want her rolling her eyes, phone propped up under her chin, saying, "I know, Mom..."
I will hand it to my father that he has done a really good job separating himself from his former "daddy" role. He actually made a point of it after I became an adult. I remember he once told me that he saw his parenting job as successful when I didn't need him anymore and could see him as a friend. I guess that has quietly happened. And the thing is, I am more apt to ask him for his advice now. Maybe because the emotional parent aspect of it isn't there. The "Do this or you will deeply regret it!" aspect. When my dad gives his advice, that's really all it is. Just advice.
I know it's probably tougher for mothers, though. You've spent a good part of your life fiercely protecting your brood and wiping dirt off their faces with your own spit. Sort of like a mother bear. But even mother bears have to run their cubs up the tree when Cub Independence Day finally comes.
All this being said, my "mommy" is coming to help for the week. She was actually begging to come today and go grocery shopping and bathroom cleaning. And I know it was purely out of love because she even offered to come make sure my cats got enough attention while we're at the hospital. (She humors me about my animal obsession, though has never really understood it.) And I'm sure I will be begging for the baby advice very shortly.
Anyway, everyone, we'll keep you posted. Pray for me! (And pray I don't poop on the delivery room table...)
I went and had my blood pressure checked yesterday afternoon, and it had gone up more. I had two options: induce Sunday or come back Monday morning for another check. If it hadn't gone down, he would want to induce then. I chose Sunday. My body seems like it is primed up anyway and ready for a small push over the edge.
We thought about not telling anyone that we were going to induce. Just "Surprise!" afterwards. I mean, that's how it would be if I went into labor on my own. But we went ahead and called the ole' parental units. After each of us got off the phone, we looked at each other and knew we should have just waited. Are all parents this way? What I want as an adult "child" is a "Hooray! We're so excited! We'll be praying for you!" Not "Are you sure that's the right decision? What did the doctor say?" (Um, he suggested it.) "Have you checked your insurance to make sure your hospital stay is covered?" (Um, that's usually why you have insurance...) "Well, you need to be lying down until then." (Aye aye, capt'n.)
I know that parents do this second-guessing, nagging, half-scolding thing because they love us. I know this. It is firmly planted in my head. But when is it time to let go? Not stop the loving, just stop the parenting. I'm already worried about this with my own child. Thirty years from now, I don't want her rolling her eyes, phone propped up under her chin, saying, "I know, Mom..."
I will hand it to my father that he has done a really good job separating himself from his former "daddy" role. He actually made a point of it after I became an adult. I remember he once told me that he saw his parenting job as successful when I didn't need him anymore and could see him as a friend. I guess that has quietly happened. And the thing is, I am more apt to ask him for his advice now. Maybe because the emotional parent aspect of it isn't there. The "Do this or you will deeply regret it!" aspect. When my dad gives his advice, that's really all it is. Just advice.
I know it's probably tougher for mothers, though. You've spent a good part of your life fiercely protecting your brood and wiping dirt off their faces with your own spit. Sort of like a mother bear. But even mother bears have to run their cubs up the tree when Cub Independence Day finally comes.
All this being said, my "mommy" is coming to help for the week. She was actually begging to come today and go grocery shopping and bathroom cleaning. And I know it was purely out of love because she even offered to come make sure my cats got enough attention while we're at the hospital. (She humors me about my animal obsession, though has never really understood it.) And I'm sure I will be begging for the baby advice very shortly.
Anyway, everyone, we'll keep you posted. Pray for me! (And pray I don't poop on the delivery room table...)
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