Yay, I’m full term today! (For those who don’t know, that’s 37 weeks.) I just stuffed my face (again) and I’m about to take a nap (again), but before I do I thought I would update the blog since the last entry I made was so down in the dumps.
Out of sheer spite of my boss, I decided to continue working until my last scheduled day in the office, 2 days before my due date. I figured I would take Tylenol as needed and just tough it out (read: cry in the car on the way home from work). But a miracle happened! The baby must have moved off of a nerve or something, and as soon as I made that decision my back pain reduced significantly! I was so relieved…and am now just counting down until our last day (20 days!!) that the office is open. And the depression that I was in lifted as soon as the pain eased up. Funny how those things work. Also, being vindictive and showing my boss that I am in fact a strong woman (and not a delicate flower) gave me a new sense of purpose.
I’m hoping that working will keep me preoccupied, because you can seriously go batty with all of the symptom watching that happens in the third trimester. Especially when you start creeping up on your due date! I am getting tired of everyone asking me how I feel, though. And now people keep saying, “Not too long now!” with a grin. I want to punch them. Yes, people. I’m aware that there will be a human being pushed out of my vagina soon. The date is circled on my calendar. Jesus.
That being said, would I kill to be on maternity leave right now as all I want to do is sleep, eat and slowly clean our little nest? You bet your ass. But such is life.
Anyway, some things to note:
I am far more interested in reading baby prep books than regular novels right now. Damn it.
Some days I am in no hurry for the baby to get here. In fact, if I start to think that if I could buy 2 more months, I’d appreciate it. Post pregnancy sounds awful…and as rough as my pregnancy has been, it’s currently my new normal. I hate change!
My husband (who is a scholar and a saint) has to reassure me constantly. On everything. Far gone is the confident woman who would say ‘Fuck it’, devise a plan and then execute. I second-guess EVERYTHING now. Gas to put in the car. Buying anything above $5. If we will be okay when the baby comes because ALL OF THE BOOKS SAY WE WILL SLIP INTO THE SEVENTH CIRCLE OF HELL AND WILL PROBABLY DIVORCE. You know. Things like that.
I live in my bathtub. I can’t comprehend what I would do without my tub. She understands me. She comforts me. I will sit in the tub almost nightly, soaking up to my belly in warm water with a vanilla scented candle nearby. Ahhhhhhhhh. Matter of fact, I’m in the tub as I write this right now! Because of my back and hip pain, floating allows me to take pressure off my joints. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up in pain and ran a bath or how many times I’ve fallen asleep in the tub (I have Husband on a constant watch lest I drown). I’ve also discovered that my magical tub helps stop cramping and Braxton Hicks contractions. Ah-MAZING.
Thanks to the generosity of our family and friends, we have only spent about $100 (if that) on baby gear. I went from being extremely stressed out about how we were going to afford all of the ‘must have’ baby gear on our own to ‘holy crap, we have too much shit, but thank you!!!”. The people in our life are wonderful…and the generosity came from unexpected places (like the exec from my job who decided he wanted to buy us a pack n play…thus eliminating our need to buy a crib). This baby is SET for at least the first year of her life…I’m so grateful.
My boobs are elephant huge. So big they float in my magical tub. Nuff said.
Somehow, I managed to score an excellent performance review from my boss AND complete my second novel. I’m in awe of myself. How the hell did that happen? I honestly have no idea and that frightens me a little bit. I’ve been so preoccupied with prepping for the baby or worrying about prepping for the baby or worrying about my husband not being employed or dealing with excruciating back pain that I can’t remember doing anything else. Very bizarre. The plus side is that if I am officially losing my grip on reality at least I’m being productive.
I have a love / hate affair with my pets. Love them, hate the fur and germs. It’s every fucking where. I don’t understand. On Monday, I dust and sanitize. By Wednesday, they’ve managed to shed about ten tons of pet hair on every single surface in our house. The dog has managed to pee on the couch or lick the shit out of my clean sheets. Husband is on pet duty until further notice because I have thought about tossing my medium haired fat cat out of the window on more than one occasion and have almost lost my mind when the skinny tortie decided she wanted to climb on the baby clothes (gasp!!).
We still haven’t installed the car seat (or taken it out of the box, actually), washed any baby items (clothes, toys, bottles, whatever), etc. I just think she’s going to be late anyway, so I’m not in a hurry. Dangerous thinking maybe. But I’m sticking to that to keep sane.
So that’s what new with me. Still gestating along, gaining weight (gah!), marveling at my swollen ankles and missing my skinny jeans. I’m off to go eat apple pie for second breakfast now…