Having just returned from my "Congratulations, you're past your due date" doctor's appointment this morning, I have a news flash for you: Baby Kate has apparently decided that she is completely uninterested in being born. I know this because my doctor tells me that physically, in terms of stuff that usually indicates your baby might be coming soon, my body has made no change since last week. Nothing, people. I am speed-walking my life away, and this kid is just hanging out, laughing, like "What? You think all this movement is bothering me? I can wait forever, lady."

This does not seem to phase my doctor too much, because as she points out, a due date is just a theoretical marker in time for when the baby might arrive, but since we're getting farther and farther away from that marker, we've formulated a plan, and here it is: If this baby does not make her appearance sometime in the next week, we will check into the hospital next Friday, September 14, and forcibly evict her via the use of pitocin. This is not my first choice for a birth experience, but if I am still pregnant a week from tomorrow, I have a feeling I am not going to care what I have to do as long as it will result in a baby. In the meantime, Kate will get plenty of opportunities to show off for the cameras, as we will go in for two ultrasounds/biophysical profiles to make sure she is still happy and safe in the little water world she refuses to leave. If there's a problem, her birthday will get moved up. If not, we wait.

So we've got a week. It is still, of course, entirely possible and likely that at some point soon I'll just go into labor on my own and this whole induction conversation will be moot. And if you've got some extra time on your hands or just love us very much, I would appreciate it if you'd pray for that to happen. I'm trying to have a good attitude and be patient, but it's hard, because I'm huge and uncomfortable, and my level of anxiety and general edginess is not exactly going down as each day passes. You can imagine what this is doing for Dan's quality of life. By the way, if he shows up asking to sleep on your couch sometime this week, it isn't because I threw him out. It's just that he needs a break from waking up every ten minutes when I hoist myself out of bed to go to the bathroom and then fall back onto the mattress, catapulting him out of bed from the force of the impact.

Let the countdown begin.