Fourteen days till December 7th.
That's the official date, the day Donovan will be born. I go in at 8am for an amniocentesis to ensure that his lungs are fully matured, then off we go to delivery, with the blessed addition of an epidural. My seventh labor and delivery, my first epidural. For the record, that huge amnio needle scares the hell out of me, but I figure there's enough to be frightened about right now, so fuck it, skewer me, I don't care, just give Nova the best chance he can get.
I really like my new doctor. She's very sweet, very professional, and has some sort of magic when it comes to bedside manner. She had no miracles to offer me, told me I'd be delivering 2 days earlier than I thought, because they want several days of the cardiac specialists being in the hospital in case Donovan is in really bad shape and needs the surgery immediately, or needs some special hands-on care from them (apparently, they take weekends off) then she added the joyous news of the amniocentesis, and yet, somehow, she made me feel at ease, comfortable even. I figure that was pretty damn good considering that I was fighting tears the whole way there. It's weird, I can keep it all in check at home, but something about going to/being in a doctor's office sets me off. I cried for 3 hours straight at my last appointment.
I pity the doctors, and Scott too, especially Scott, for all that I'll put them through on December 7th. I already warned Scott that I'm going to be a mess, I just hope that I'll be able to support him half as much as I know he'll support me that day. He isn't exactly the emotionally demonstrative type normally, but he's good under pressure, bless his heart. Out of compassion, I won't ask him to be there for the amnio though, he's not real good with needles