Todays random ramblings are brought to you by the word “still.”
Because as I think about all of the events happening in my life right now, this one word seems to sum them up pretty succinctly.
You’ll understand shortly.
Yep. I’m officially 39 weeks, 5 days preggers today. It’s weird, these last few weeks of pregnancy. I find myself so sure that I’m going to have this baby today…only to wake up *still* pregnant the next day.
I know, I know…I’m technically not even to my due date yet! But you hear things like this from people all the time:
– you look like you’re about ready to pop! (By the way…why is this an appropriate and acceptable statement to make to anyone…ever??!)
– you are getting so close!
– I bet you have that baby tomorrow!
– you’re going to be early, I just know it!
– wow – you’re really showing now!
And you know what? You start to believe them! Yeah, I AM about ready to pop! And I totally WILL have this baby early! I just HAVE to! TODAY is MY DAY!
And then another day passes and you’re still pregnant…only to face the same comments from a new round of faces. It’s hard not to feel a little disappointed, but then you remind yourself that you’re not even to 40 weeks yet! Gah! Get a grip girl! You shouldn’t be feeling like this until after you’re at least 40 weeks along. Right??
In all fairness however, my Dr. is being the opposite of helpful right now.
In the past I’ve watched several near-the-end girls in my aqua fitness class (that’s what the cool kids call it) report weekly on how dilated or ephased they are. Me? I get nothing. My Dr. doesn’t check me at my weekly appointments except to listen for the heartbeat and measure my belly. So I have no idea if I’m dilated any further past the “1” I was at a month ago (when she surprisingly did check).
I know, I know. Most people say those numbers don’t mean much because you can walk around for weeks dilated to 5 centimeters. But still! I’m a first time mom here. It might be nice to know and I kinda wanna know.
But since I don’t know, I find myself totally buying into the hype that I could pop any time now.
See the vicious cycle this has become?
Ok whose big idea was this anyways?
To work until “the end?”
Ok it was mine.
Because I’m suuuuuuure I thought it would be fine, right? Just pray that my water doesn’t break at work and I’m good to go!
Well, it turns out that working up until “the end” is its own type of torture. Trying to focus on work when your mind is completely focused somewhere else? Sitting behind a computer for eight hours a day? Trying to pull yourself out of bed in the morning (when you haven’t been sleeping) earlier than normal because it takes you twice as long to do your normal things (like actually get out of the bed, shower, dress, put on socks, walk the dog). And the worst, the absolute worst part of it is wrapping everything up at the end of the day so you can seamlessly hand it over to someone else for 12 weeks…and then showing up the next day and needing to start all over. It’s like a really bad Groundhog’s Day.
Oh wait, Groundhog’s Day was really bad.
You get the idea.
Yeah, this working thing is for the birds. If I could go back in time, I would like to say to myself: “Self, it’s going to be hard enough at 39 weeks along. Why don’t you call it quits with work and spend the days watching stories and eating bon bons?”
And then I would answer myself and say “Self, that is a glorious idea!”
Plus I’ve always wanted to say “quiet down in there, I’m watching my stories!”
Maybe I’ll be the first to say it out loud, but I’m sure I can’t be the first to feel it: being pregnant can be boring! Especially these last few weeks.
At least in my experience.
I mean, the list of things I can’t do is a mile longer than the things I can. For example, I can’t: walk very far, hike very far, ski, snowshoe, shovel (yes, I actually wanted to shovel snow and the Hubs said no) or snowmobile. And now that I’m so close to my due date I can’t stray very far from the house, leave town or go anywhere outside of cell service.
I mean, it kind of feels like I’m on house arrest or something. I’m basically stuck at home….where normally I would be all over cleaning, organizing, projecting or cooking…but there’s no energy for that anymore. Nope. I’ll get halfway through a project and wonder how in the world I’m going to finish it….or how in the heck I can vacuum upstairs when the simple act of carrying the vacuum up the stairs will require a nap.
Perhaps it’s because I’m so used to doing things. It’s hard for me to just sit down and relax, even though I know that’s what is best for me and baby right now.
And yes, everyone tells me to just “enjoy it” because “it won’t last long.”
I’m trying, but not succeeding very well.
Seems as though these dang pregnancy hormones will get the best of me yet! And my little dog too!
Lately I’ve found myself unable to hide my annoyances with just about everything. The barista that gets my drink wrong, the strangers that find it necessary to stare at my belly, the fact that nothing ever sounds good for dinner.
I mean, I’m sure this is just a result of my raging hormones, right? Normally these things wouldn’t bother me (well, normally I wouldn’t have a pregnant belly for people to stare at either). Really though, normally I’m extremely patient and nice to people. Not one to roll my eyes in plain view or give a stranger the side-eye.
Just trust me when I say that it will be better for everyone when these hormones tone ‘er down a bit.
still loving any and all baked goods…
It’s safe to say that if you are a baked good within my arms reach, that you are not safe.
I hope this too goes away post baby.
still thirsty for more…
I know. I feel guilty for even admitting this. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal to abstain from drinking for 9 months.
But I do miss it. Well…let me clarify: I miss good beer, like microbrews. I could probably go another full 9 months without a Bud Light. haha.
I miss the social aspect of it. I miss going to the brewery in the evening and enjoying a few drinks with my friends. It’s just not the same when everyone else is drinking your favorite Winter Brew and you’re sipping on your 3rd root beer. I mean really, there’s only so much root beer a girl can drink; no matter how much fun it is to say “sassafras root” each time I have one.
Wanna know something awesome though?
The Hubs and I brewed a special batch of Homebrew for Baby T. Well…I guess it’s more for us than for the Baby, obvi. It’s a Sierra Nevada “Celebration” clone and we just bottled it this week. Which means in two short weeks we’ll both be able to crack one open and celebrate the new addition to our world.
Needless to say, I am
still got my mooooooves….
I’m 9 months pregnant and still kicked the Hubs ass at Dance Central.
Who cares that I could only make it through one song before collapsing on the couch?
As I read back through this post, I realize it probably sounds like I’m complaining a lot.
I don’t mean to sound so negative.
I know how lucky I am to be pregnant. To have a healthy pregnancy. To feel relatively decent. To still be going to work and saving my maternity days for after baby arrives. To have a supportive family. To have people in my life that are so excited to meet this little baby and think about me daily.
For that I am so grateful. Really, truly grateful.
But I think you just reach a point in pregnancy where you’re just ready to be done. You’ve prepared all you can prepare. You’ve read all you can read. You’ve cleaned and organized your house ten thousand times. You’ve cooked enough freezer meals for a small army. And you’re just ready to embark on this next part of the journey.
So whatever that point is…I think it’s safe to say that I’ve reached it.
I’m ready to meet this little girl, to embrace the changes and the challenges that will come with her. To become a parent. To watch The Hubs become a parent and form a bond with his daughter.
So hurry up Baby T.
Apparently I’m about ready to pop over here!