Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

That's how much progress I've made. None. We ran through the usual gamut of tests at the doctor today. Pee in cup. Check. Weigh in. Up one pound. Blood pressure. Normal. Then, onto the glorious internal. It didn't hurt at all and quite frankly, I don't know what all the fuss is about if you've ever had a regular annual exam. Anyway, Dr. Pandeala said that I have zero dilation. At this point, the most probable outcome is that nothing will happen this week and that we'll go back to the doctor on Monday for the final ultrasound and check up. At that point, we'll get a better estimate on Baby Harvill's size and make a determination of course of action. Unfortunately, my lack of dilation not only makes the induction success lower (raising the chance of a c-section) it also lengthens the average process for labor. Basically, hours could become days. Thankfully I was never anticipating a natural child birth, so at this point, I guess I'm game for whatever comes my way. Moral of the story: marry a midget and have tiny babies.

Part of me is a little disappointed that I have no progress. Secretly, I was hoping for a Thanksgiving baby and an excuse to make Joel come home from work early at night to go for stupidly long walks with me in a lame attempt at inducing labor. Part of me feels like a success. I guess I'm a pretty good incubator after all and I've provided this kiddo with a healthy, warm and stable environment full of all the sheet cake he can consume. I told the doctor that maybe I'll switch over to lima beans and asparagus since kids hate vegetables. Maybe that will get him moving.

All I have to say is, Joel and my doctor are pretty lucky that I've got a good sense of humor. There I am, naked from the waist down on the table with Joel checking the baby's heart rate (Dr. Pandeala lets him play with the fetal heart monitor and the goo) and my doctor is assessing the swelling of my feet, ankles and legs. She turns to me and says, "Nice cankles!" and Joel responds, "They're not cankles, they are kneegles since they go all the way up to her knees!" Then they both share a good laugh over my sausage feet. Har, har, har. I told them both to watch out because one day, my feet would go back to normal making it easier for me to kick both of their arses.