Thursday, August 29, 2013

Panic. And Fall.

It's August 29th.  Do you know what that means?  It's almost September.  The past couple of mornings have been chilly.  Almost sweater chilly.  Given my tendency to feel like melting and dying lately, the change in weather is more than welcome.  Even though we're still hitting 90 degrees in the middle of the day, the cool mornings remind me that summer (like pregnancy) will not go on forever, even if it feels that way most days.

But then, I realize that it's almost fall, and that this baby will be here in 7 - 9 weeks.  Roughly.  And that I'm considered full-term in a mere 27 days.  That's when they tell you, "It could be any day now!"  Which, in reality, is just a cruel joke when a woman ends up going 2 weeks overdue, but that's another issue entirely.

Hence, the panic.  I'm not really panicking.  Actually, I've finally started to get flickers of real excitement and anticipation about this baby coming.  But there's still so much to do.  Including set up a nursery, which she will not sleep in...ever, if she's anything like her brother.  So, while I know she doesn't need a nursery, I do.  And I'm an irrational pregnant lady, so I'm allowed to demand things that like.

The only problem is that the nursery is currently the guest bedroom.  And the room that needs to be the guest bedroom is...well, not in any shape for guests.  That's for sure.  The beauty of panic, though, is that it gets things done.

See?  Photographic evidence that I'm not as lazy and useless at almost 34 weeks pregnant as I feel.  And, if my mudding and taping job on this drywall isn't perfect, I can blame it on my lack of balance and flexibility thanks to my ever-expanding bump.  And the fact that my hips feel like they're trying to run away from my spine. 

But, we're one step closer to checking one more thing off the to-do list, so it'll be worth it in the end, right?

And then there's the matter of preparing to actually get this baby out of my body.  I have a lot of thoughts about birth. Hopefully I can sit and share them soon.  If for no other reason than to get my own feelings straight.  I've been reading the Birth Without Fear Blog a lot lately.  It's helping.  I hate that "fear" even has any place in birth (or pregnancy or motherhood), but the sad reality is that there are lots of people in this world who - whether they mean to or not - scare pregnant ladies about what's right or wrong or best for your baby.  Or, at least, they scare me. 

So, until I can write it all out, do any of you have birth stories to share (or link to)?  The more I can read, the more prepared I feel.  I love birth stories.  Is that weird?

Friday, August 23, 2013

It's a...

Woo hoo for a girl!

Don't get me wrong, I love my little boy.  And I love the experience of being mommy to a little boy.  But, I'm excited to try my hand at a girl. 

And, it fully justifies my crazed uterus-inspired fabric purchase from several years ago.   So that's a good thing.  

When I originally told my husband my plan for my gender reveal photos with the question mark balloon exploding into a beautiful rain of colored confetti, he was very skeptical.  Said there was no way I'd get the timing just right with the camera to actually catch the balloon popping.  But I had faith.  And it worked out.  I'm only making a slightly weird face, but I'm ok with that considering that there was a balloon popping inches from my ear. 

Anyway, that's it! The newest Baby Spaghetti will be a girl (assuming the ultrasounds aren't wrong or something).  Don't even get me started on names....that's a whole 'nother story for a different day!

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

32 Weeks

Phew! Alright, folks, we're at 32 weeks.  That means only 8 to go...give or take.

When I first got pregnant, upon hearing my due date, there were so many people who said, " have to be really pregnant through the hottest part of summer.  I'm sorry.  It's terrible."

And I thought to myself, "Psssh.  It can't possibly be that bad. They don't know what they're talking about."

As it turns out, they did know what they were talking about.  It's terrible.  Much more terrible than I imagined.  While heat has always had a draining effect, there's something about being pregnant in the heat that has made me unable to function like a normal human being.  The thought of walking from the house to the car when it's 100 degrees outside exhausts me so much that I need a nap.  Let alone the thought of getting in the car and actually going anywhere.

My poor lungs are already running out of room, so deep breaths are hard to come by.  When you add triple digit temperatures to shrunken lungs, you get a lot of wheezing and huffing and puffing.  And generally feeling like you're going to shrivel up and die.  I go outside and instantly slow down to about 1/100th of my normal pace (which, I can assure you, is not very quick to begin with these days).

Anyway, I'm not meaning to whine.  I'm really just meaning to send a general warning out there to all potentially pregnant ladies (and current or future husbands of potentially pregnant ladies): Being very pregnant in the heat of summer is not fun.  Everyone will tell you that, and you may be inclined not to believe them, but you should.  Oh, you should.

We've had a couple of nice, cool rainy days that have me feeling refreshed, though, and I'm feeling like I'm going to survive until October.  There is a light at the end of this tunnel.  Assuming my belly doesn't get stuck in said tunnel along the way.  'Cuz it's definitely getting bigger.

In closing, I've got two small requests for my dear little baby.

First, little one, can you kindly keep your legs out from underneath my ribs? They're not jail cell bars.  You can't bust out of them.  I love you and your wiggly-ness, but I sort of need the ribs.

Second, and I know this may seem a little early, but I figure I should start this bargaining process sooner rather than later.  Can you decide to come out on your own?  Not soon.  I mean, preferably not until October.  But at some point, I would really like it if you'd let me go into labor.  Your brother, bless his heart, had to be forced out with very painful drugs at 42 weeks.  Can you just not do that?  I'm willing to be generous.  I'll (only slightly impatiently) give you until 41 weeks and 6 days (if I can keep the doctors off our backs), if you'll just agree to come out.  Extra brownies and cupcakes if you come out before that, though.  Or extra breastmilk?  Is that what you'd bribe a newborn with?

Stay tuned, folks.  The gender reveal is up next!  Maybe tomorrow, but I don't want to make any promises I can't keep.  So, I'll just say soon. Very soon!

Any guesses?  Am I having a boy or a girl?

Thursday, August 8, 2013

30 Weeks

30 weeks! It hardly seems possible, little one.

Only a couple more months before I have to share you with everyone.  Sure, I complain about my achy back and my complete and total lack of energy.  I complain about obnoxiously nosy folks at the grocery store who tell me that I look like I'm ready to pop any day (For the record, they're mostly men.  And also for the record, I still have two and a half months to go.  Thanks a lot).  And I complain about the fact that I have to roll around like a turtle on its back to get up the momentum to heave myself out of bed in the mornings.

But I have some secrets to share with you, sweet baby. I love your 11 p.m. karate parties.  I love your sharp and poky parts that stab me.  I love that sometimes I feel like I can tickle your little bony toes.

I love that your brother comes up and rubs you and tells you, "I love you, belly!" He wants to teach you to read, no matter that he doesn't know how himself.  And I'm sorry if he calls you "Pete" for the rest of your life (hey, it's better than "Lassie," so we've made progress) - I promise you can call him whatever you want.  

So here we are.  Thirty weeks!  I can eat again, though every now and then I'll get a surprise dry heave out of nowhere.  I've officially gained weight - a whopping six pounds.  The heat makes us feel like we're going to die, so we do a lot of sitting on the couch.  I've been knitting and sewing up a storm of cute things for you once you get here.

I started taking pictures to document how you were growing at 14 weeks, and then promptly took none until now.  Lesson #1 about mommy: she means well, but that doesn't guarantee results! That's ok, though.

Here we were at 14 weeks:

 And here we are now!

 It's been a fun ride, jelly bean. And we're not done yet!

Your Mama

And for you, blog folks, here's a super nifty stop motion video my husband put together of the ridiculous process by which I take these weekly pictures.  It's silly.  But I like it.