So far, here I am at home. NOT at the hospital.

Although the doctor has said it could be any minute, he doesn't want to "take" the baby until the last minute in case we're wrong about the due-date.

Every minute "in" is good for the baby but not-so-good for me. Now, instead of bed-rest I'm on perpetual-movement. And the doctor decided he'd come into the office on Thursday morning instead of leaving on his trip. I have a message for the receptionist, according to my doctor: "Tell her you know I'm back in my office, and to come get me when you get here, that I said so."

Lets all pray she doesn't just fall out in the middle of the night, since the local hospital is really just an elevated-helo-pad and the "real" hospital is 1.5 hours away.

Lalalalalalala. I'm in my happy place.

It just dawned on me that I'll come home from the hospital weighing roughly 50 lbs LESS than the day I got pregnant.

Tomorrow I start the clear liquid diet again for the 24 hours preceding potential surgery. Then Thursday is (hopefully) surgery day.

But I'm feeling a little more peaceful. God will deal with it. And Jesus didn't die so I could be saved-but-totally-freaked-out-beyond-belief.

Yes, I'm home. And still pregnant. Apparently my cervix will listen to reason. (Hrumph)(And, yes, I do indeed make that sound in real life when I'm irritated and thwarted)

Quick update:

Bloodpressure holding steady, thank God. Literally. Steady enough that the doctor thinks I can wait another week, in spite of the weight loss (4 lbs this week). Waiting is great for the baby, and terrifying for me. Bed rest, which will preclude excessive blogging.

Tomorrow is Thursday. That means I'm on my way into the city for a doctor's appointment.

He swears that I'm not due until November. Bwahahahaha. No way on Earth that I'm due in November. I'm thinking I'm due this week.

We have agreed to disagree. And watch my cervix like a hawk. So. Tomorrow we'll know if I'm coming home for another week, or wheeling across the hallway into surgery.

Feel free to pray wildly and emphatically tomorrow. Start tonight if you're so inclined. Continue until someone (husband and/or tech-guy) posts that "Lucy is fine" or "Lucy is dead". Or until I post that I'm sure the doctor found a way to trick my cervix. He's very gifted, and I wouldn't put that past him!

It looks like I would just add 6-YearMedStudent to my list of linked sites. But it gives me a treat for going to SandInTheGears even on the days he hasn't written anything, which is most of them. Because I click through to her site from his site. Who knows! Maybe my tech-guy and/or husband will see this post and eventually add her to the list. This is definitely NOT the time for me to be messing about with my site myself. I lost my keys last week, for the first time in 19 years. And I for the first time ever, I have no idea how much cash is in my purse. I asked my husband not to mention it to my parents. They'd freak, completely. And drive out here, sure that I'm on my deathbed. But that is neither here nor there nor anything to do with Danielle ...

I read her site this afternoon. I usually do, now that I've found it. If you haven't found it yet, its yummy. I got hooked when she was on her morgue rotation in August. My favorite part was the slipping-on-a-banana-peel-except-its-a-spleen story. Its all there in the archives! She has a lovely way of being thorough and brief-ish at the same time. A skill that has obviously eluded me! Anyway ...

Today she posted about her first night on-call admitting patients from the ER. She was awake for 30 hours and still coherent! She's a jem. She also mentioned that the blood-taker-people take blood from patients about 2:00am so that the results are in the computer for doctor-type-people who do rounds at 6:00am. Which reminded me of my own personal favorite blood-taker-people story, which I'll tell here because I didn't want to suck up all the space in her comments.

I noticed this morning that I have a perm. Did I go get one at the salon? No. Did aliens visit last night? Maybe, but they didn't do my hair.

Last night I took a bath. A nice long bath. I should have known better, but I didn't feel well. See, I've also noticed a rather overpowering chlorine smell from our pipes since Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. Perhaps the local utility is dealing with "stuff" in the water-table that is spreading out of New Orleans. Its hundreds and hundreds of miles away, but I've been assured that its still spreading which is kinda creepy considering. OR perhaps all the competent employees at the local utility volunteered to go to New Orleans to help them out. Leaving us with the freaks that can't tell a cup of bleach from a gallon! Either way, now my hair is effectively "permed". Which is a VERY bad bad bad thing. Sure, not as bad as being caught in a hurricane. But still bad.

Another thought: There are things that a husband should not tell his wife. For example, "Do you like the new shirt I'm wearing?" should NOT be answered with "You kinda look like a big elf." Which is moderately better than what he said the day I bought it -- "It reminds me of a circus tent!" See, I found some lovely festive striped shirts VERY on-sale and bought one in every color combo. Green/white/pink, Orange/white/cobalt, Red/white/black, Turquoise/white/green. They're fabulous! Lee thinks they're the most fabulous shirts he's ever seen. Admittedly, he's six and has a rather artistic way of looking at things. Which leads to my next thought ...

I need new friends. I'm going to choke the next one that tells me I need to wear more "adult" clothes. IE, black and navy casual business separates. They (the single thirty-somethings) are insistent that my husband will leave me for another woman if I don't become more sophisticated and sexy. I don't think sophisticated and sexy are necessarily bad. Just slightly impractical for everyday wear in my particular situation. And, lets consider my situation. He's home every night. I'm pregnant. Again. There must be SOMETHING he likes about me!

No, this is not a weird homosexual hypothetical question introducing the issue of gay marriage. Its an introduction to the topic of opposites attracting.

You've got to admit that Kirk and Spock are opposites. Yet, they share basic core similiarities in their priorities and values. Its only the style that is opposite. Which is why my husband and I usually get along REALLY well.

He's Kirk. Laid back and charming and brilliant and risky, a natural leader beloved by all (except for the bad guys).

I'm Spock. Subtly cool and detached, vaguely sarcastic and dry-witted, quietly smart in a detailed inside-the-box kind of way, fond of rules, a natural follower capable of mind-boggling loyalty.

(Note to Readers: Since Spock wouldn't make a very cuddly mommy, I've dropped a few psychological walls)

As soon as we started dating, it freaked out all our friends because they couldn't imagine us NOT together. They found our obvious compatibility very ... disturbing. For the first time in their young lives, they could see what "forever" might realisticly look like demonstrated by someone their own age. It was a wake-up call for many of them. Bwahahahaha. But that is neither here nor there ...

Imagine Spock ramped up on pregnancy-related-hormones. Kirk's life would be really ... interesting ... wouldn't it?