Yes, I'm aware that I waddle. I know that I don't walk terribly well. I realize that I must not have much longer, by the looks of things. No, I do not need any commentary about how I look like I might pop (or worse--explode) any minute now. Who ever thought it was a good idea to compare childbirth to explosions? Not a positive mental image, people!
And before anyone is tempted to get me started,
read this before any thoughts of commenting on how you think I'm big as a house or must be carrying twins (I'm not, and I'm not).
I'm still seeing my chiropractor weekly. Who knows how bad my
SPD and SI issues would be if I weren't. It's pretty bad as is, and I know that chiropractic is helping. I've been drinking Earth Mama Angel Baby
Third Trimester Tea every night before bed. That's been a fun countdown, watching my stock of it dwindle.
I just found out that I'm GBS positive, so I have to decide what course of action to take (or not to take). As of right now, I'm likely to take the course of treatment based on risk factors as opposed to prophylactically, considering the
Cochrane Review of the research on GBS and IV antibiotics in labor.
I guess that's all the news for now. I'm just hanging out, waiting for Christmas or labor, whichever comes first. It's a little bit hard to wait, knowing it *could* be tonight, but it *could* be 3 more weeks. It does make it easier to wait, having so much to do. I haven't even started wrapping gifts and I have a ton of nesting to do, so I'm content to wait on my son's timing. (Even if I weren't content to wait, I wouldn't evict him without pressing proof of medical need to do so, in case you were wondering.
Here's why.)