So then, why can I not take her advice?
My monthly checkup was about 90 percent complete--baby's heartbeat is fine, my growth is normal, my pee is normal--when H-band decides to chime in with The Question. The question I'd answered for myself a long time ago, but obviously not to his satisfaction:
"You know, Jory's got a blogging conference in New York in early August she's planning on going to. She's been traveling a lot lately, and this would be her last trip, but I just wonder if it's a good idea."
Midwife asks: "How many weeks will you be?"
"Thirty four," H-band says.
"Thirty three," I correct him, "entering my thirty fourth."
Our midwife doesn't even take a second to think it over, "Oh well, you're not going."
"I'm not?"
"Oh no, not at thirty four weeks."
I throw out my defensive measure--the one I'd been resting on."My airline cut-off is thirty six weeks!"
"Airlines don't know what's best for you," she says launching into a very well-meaning discussion about how it makes perfect sense that I would still continue to think like a business person, since it's how I've derived my identity for so long, and how difficult it can be to start thinking like a mom. But starting now, it was time to think differently, make different decisions.
I think to myself, of course I will, but after the conference.
Mentally I cross off a business trip to Chicago and my high school reunion, which would take place the two weeks before my conference. These are the sacrifices I must make as a mom to be. But no. Not my conference.
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