And now I hate the number 7

I had my 36-week appointment yesterday and learned three important things.

1. I am 1 cm dilated.
TMI, deal with it. This means that the baby could come tomorrow, or she could come in four weeks, like she's supposed to. So, really, it's non-news news. But yikes. It's starting to happen.

2. Baby Girl may be over 7 pounds.
I WILL KILL DAVE FOR THIS. I was a tiny 4 pounds, 8 ounces (10 days early), and since my mom was the same size I am, I figured I would get a little 5-pound nugget. Well, my doctor doesn't think so. She thinks the baby is hovering around 5 pounds now and may be somewhere in the "upper 7s" when she's born.

3. I will probably deliver early.
I've been saying that I don't think I'll make it to Aug. 22, and my doctor told me that she didn't think I would either. (I'm working through to the 16th, so this should be interesting.) I'm torn on this... On the one hand, the earlier she arrives, the smaller she'll be. Since she's full-term and healthy right now, I'm kind of okay with this. On the other hand, the later she is, the more time I have to, you know, sleep and be selfish. Plus, it would be nice to have a few days off before I go from work-mode to zombie-mode.

We'll get another update next week, but for now, that's where we stand.