Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Dear, sweet child currently all snuggled in my uterus,
     I love you dearly, though we have yet to meet face to face. We have spent many, many long weeks together, as close as we can be.  It has been a precious time.
     I want you to be good and healthy when you arrive.  Your sister decided to make a stop in the NICU, and we hope to avoid that this time around.  However, consider this your two week notice.
     You have two weeks to vacate the premises. That's 14 days.  I may allow you to stay a little bit longer, however, we must establish some additional requirements should you decide to remain.
    1.) Kicking the ribs must stop.  My ribs are not yours to use for P90X.
    2.) You are not a snake, therefore this slithery, twisty thing you have been doing that makes me feel nauseous? Yeah, that has to end.
    3.) My cervix is not a trampoline.  Along those same lines, my bladder is not to be used as a pillow.
    4.) If you insist on remaining in my uterus, please reconsider the addition of more stretch marks. My stomach is not an interstate highway map of the United States.
    5.) Your weight limit has been reached.

Once again, I don't want to rush you, but should you still be inhabiting your current living quarters in two weeks, you can expect some minor eviction attempts.  Such as pineapple. And a birthing ball. And spicy food.

If you choose to remain an additional two weeks past your departure date, more drastic measures may be taken.

Once again, you are dearly loved, but I am ready for an outside baby, m'kay?


Friday, May 4, 2012

Getting There

So, here we are. It has been a terribly long time since I last posted, and to be quite honest, I thought about just letting it go. Just letting it become another one of those random blogs that is never updated and is taking up space on the interwebs.

But, alas, when I actually make myself sit down and write, I find it is such a great stress relief, and a great way to analyze and repackage my thoughts.  So, here I am, sitting in a quiet house, typing away, while the hubs is out with the kiddo doing some grocery shopping.  Silence is hard to come by these days, and so often missed.

Yes, I'm still pregnant.  But I am getting close.  T-minus three weeks. Technically. I'm shooting for "full term" which is next week, and, I honestly may try to encourage baby along just a little bit.  Or maybe a lotta bit.

Every pregnancy reaches a point where those cute, precious, comforting kicks seem to transform into an alien trying desperately to escape the confines of the womb.  That point happened about, um, 4 weeks ago for me.

I honestly never knew that my belly button could actually hurt. And it does, Because I think that is the way this child has decided to escape...

I'm pretty good during the early part of the day, but I've had enough come about 3 p.m. And the hardest part has been simply that I can't "do" anymore.  I can't get the cleaning done on my own.  I suppose I could, technically. So, rather, I can't comfortably get the cleaning done. I can't really sleep anymore. I can't seem to eat enough to stay full (actually, that part I don't really mind all too much.  Food has been my friend this pregnancy).  I can't even seem to fit in my maternity clothes at this point.

I'm down to weekly appointments, and my last one revealed that baby is currently measuring in at 7lbs11oz, with as many as 4 weeks to go.  I understand that these measurements are frequently off.  However, I also know that Ansley was born with 5 weeks to go and weighed in at 7lbs then.  So the current measurement isn't really that hard to believe.  Either way, the first words out of the tech's mouth during the u/s were "Oh my. This head is huge."

Which seems to fit in nicely with all the comments I've been getting lately, including:
      Wow, you aren't as huge from the back.
      I'm going to tell the school principal that you are trying to steal a basketball.
     Oh. My. Gawd. You are HUGE.

And, my new personal favorite, courtesy of a student this week:
     If my wife gets that big while she is pregnant, I'm going to leave her.

Which, is rather ironic considering my total weight gain remains under 30 pounds thus far. However, there is no disputing where that 30 pounds is currently residing... right in front of me.

Here's the thing. I'm convinced that soon, my body will no longer be able to support the weight of my protruding stomach, and I fear that it will simply begin to rip off. Which, ultimately, I don't think would be all that bad, considering it would take the stretch marks and my new outie belly button along. It may pose some  difficulties on down the road, but I'm sure we can manage.