My doctor's leading words at my appointment on Wednesday. If there's one thing a big, fat, sweaty pregnant woman doesn't want to hear, it's that she has some extra time on the clock. But in my case, the big, fat, sweaty pregnant woman got good news. Apparently, the two systems at the office were spitting out two different due dates. They were only a day off, which usually doesn't make a difference in the slightest, but when you're having a scheduled C-section and your due date was thought to be a Saturday, it makes a fair bit of difference. Because the hospital doesn't schedule C-sections for Saturdays, I was going to go in the following Monday, between 39 and 40 weeks. But if we go based on the other due date that the ultrasound machine dictated, I'd be 39 weeks on Friday the 1st, meaning I can go in then instead of waiting until Monday the 4th. Meaning, Brandon can spend the weekend with us without taking too much time off work, and my Mum can arrive just before the procedure and spend more time with us post-baby. Hooray! And 11/1 sounds like a date I can easily remember...don't quote me.
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