4 Months

If you want a new outfit - not just any outfit... a brand new $35 pajama set - all you have to do is wait until the one time your mom doesn't pack an extra outfit when you go shopping and explode in your diaper. You'll get the best results if the nearest store is pretty expensive and only has one (admittedly adorable) option in your size.

$35 pajamas are great and all, but they aren't really my thing. I'd say Maya doesn't even care, but that's just what she wants me to think. As if she doesn't have enough clothes already. She does love watching me do my hair and makeup, so I might have a girly girl on my hands.

The past month has been ridiculously busy. We were out of town, then packed to move, then had a holiday, then moved, then moved and moved and, just when we thought we were done, we moved some more. Then we went out of town again, then had another holiday... And now here we are. Maya is 4 months old and I'm like whaaaaat? She rolls over, laughs, "talks", plays with/chews on toys, and watches TV. Compared to a newborn, she's basically a toddler and I don't know when this happened.

As it turns out, cherishing every moment doesn't make time go any slower.

Maya is coming out of the phase of being glued to me all the time, but she still likes to know where I am when others hold her (except daddy, unless she's hungry). She behaves amazingly in public, probably because she's so curious about everything. She still has no desire to be in the car, but I'm hoping that will pass when she can face forward maybepleaseihope? She doesn't fight sleep quite as hard as she used to, so that's made life a lot easier.

It won't be long before she starts weaning, and I've already starting thinking about how much I'll miss nursing her when it's over. BUT! Enough of that negative thinking. I am so thankful for every time I've fed her and had that one-on-one bonding. Maybe she'll be my best friend forever now.

Basically she's huge now and is practically an adult and I don't know what I'm doing anymore because this parenting thing is starting to get real. On the bright side, I feel like Justin and I are finally getting back to the old us, which is nice. Everything was crazy and our lives were changed forever, and now this is normal life. And it's good.

A Short Letter to Myself

Dear Me,

This time last year, you were basically dying. Between the extreme exhaustion of early pregnancy and having to wait almost two months for your first prenatal appointment, you thought that time was not even moving, really, and that your sesame-seed-sized baby would never ever ever arrive. Everything had changed, but nothing had changed. All your dreams came true but they were still kind of just dreams.

Now, if you'll believe it, that sesame-seed-sized baby is no longer the size of a sesame seed and she's asleep on your chest. She smiles with her mouth wide open and tries to grab things out of your hands.

And it hit me yesterday: You're a mom now. I mean, a mom! You have a pregnancy under your belt and you've experienced labor and delivery and you're totally a mom. Isn't that crazy and awesome?

White Tree

So, I'm looking at the tree we just put up. It's from the first Christmas we ever shared as husband and wife. We lived in a little apartment (actually, a huge one - 900 square feet that was basically all bedroom) in Norman. Justin has a thing for live Christmas trees, so we agreed that I could have whatever tree I wanted until we started getting real ones. Justin's car was broken down, so he walked half a mile to the dollar store and, for $20, walked home with a 6-foot white tree.

We've used it every year since. We were going to start the "real tree" tradition this year, but moving into our own place during the holiday season bumped it down a bit on the priority list.

That white tree is small and simple, but it has tons of sentimental value. As I'm looking at it, I notice that all the ornaments are hung with paper clips, which makes me laugh. That first year, when Justin brought home that tree, I went to Walmart and bought colored lights and a bunch of glittery ornaments since we didn't have any of our own. I forgot to buy hooks for the bulbs and all I had on hand were paper clips. (They work way better than the regular hooks, but they are still paper clips, after all.)

I doubt we'll ever stop using that white tree. Even when we get a big, green, live tree and deck it out in the living room, that white tree will be up in our bedroom, making me feel all nostalgic and such. I'll beg him to let me keep it on all night like always, and he'll tell me no so we don't burn the house down for the sake of ambiance when we're not even awake, like always. As the years go by, it might make me cry a little when I reminisce, but I've accepted that as part of motherhood and welcome it when the time is right. When the time is right. Not today, oh heart! Not today. Can't start that only three months in. Nope.

So, our stuff is still mostly in boxes. I still haven't figured out what each light switch controls, and we still need a shower curtain (among many, many things) but that tree went up because this is our home now and dang it, it's Christmas!

3 Months

What I meant to say was how bizarre it is that I have a 3-month-old baby, a baby who sometimes seems to understand what I'm saying to her. A baby who looks like an angel when she sleeps, a baby who is too smart for her own good. A baby that doesn't know English but talks all the time anyway.

What I meant to say is how these last three months have been the best of my life. How I wouldn't change them for anything, how I can't wait to do it again.

All of these things are true, but that's not what I'm saying.

I'm saying I have a perfect baby who gets bored easily, who hates car rides at night, and who often fights sleep like it's some sort of punishment. I'm saying that sometimes my food gets cold before I can eat it. I have a 3-month-old baby who has been teething for weeks already. She wants me or her daddy above all, which makes me wonder if we'll ever be able to go anywhere without her ever again.

Before I had her, I knew babies were a lot of work. I knew I'd be tired. I knew I would feel like more like a feeding machine than a person at times. I knew my days would revolve around her and that poop and spit up would become a way of life.

What I didn't know is that there would come a day when I realized I was hanging out with her instead of just caring for her all day. I didn't know I'd wonder why God would trust me with such a thing. I certainly didn't think I'd be too busy marveling at who she is today to cry about how much she's grown.

Your life doesn't have to be perfect to be good.

I finally got a real diaper bag, and I bought some fruit-shaped hair clips on sale for Maya, even though she doesn't quite have enough hair to wear them yet. She still doesn't fit many of her 0-3mo clothes. At this rate, she'll have some nice winter clothes in the spring.

***

I turned 24 yesterday. It feels right, like it's going to be a good year. (I think I say that every year.) Maya and I are sharing a milestone, in a way. It's kind of our thing, you know? My first pregnancy was with her. My first contractions, my first experience delivering a baby... all with her. She made me a mother. And here we are, three months in. We've done a million things together, and I still can't imagine how I ever lived without her smiling at me in the morning and falling asleep on my chest at night. I've almost forgotten who I was before she came along. You know in the Breaking Dawn book when Bella becomes a vampire and all her human memories are fuzzy and dim? It's like that, kinda, but better.

(Don't judge me for the reference. I read, okay?)

Anyway, the bottom line is that I'm different than I was three months ago just as much as she is. And - I'm just gonna put it out there - Justin got super lucky with a wife and baby who both like to watch him play video games.

Diaper Changing & Bonding

Changing diapers doesn't sound like a glamorous task. It sounds stinky and dirty. Gross, even.

What no one talks about is how intimate it is.

Maya loves being changed. She is always happy on the changing table and she talks and laughs and smiles freely while watching you do the dirty work.

When I say, "Hey! I think I found an awesome way for you to bond with her!" People just think I'm trying to pass off changing her diaper myself. I see how it looks. I do. But really, that's not it. Justin changes her in the evenings, and she loves that guy! All I'm sayin' is maybe it's worth it. Maybe changing her diaper helps her associate that grand ol' time with the person doing it. It's bonding with a baby made easy.

You don't have to change her. Diapers aren't for everyone. They aren't that bad, but some people just can't do it. I get that. Babies are tiny and strange and then they poop, and you're always in danger of some unexpected P&P during a diaper change. Accept that, though, and the diaper-changing experience can be a fun one. And I'm not just saying that so you'll change her diaper.

Every now and then she'll have a diaper that you think might kill you with its stench, and every now and then she'll have one that actually smells good to me. (I accept that this is weird and is probably unique to me as her mother - but hey, no complaints here. I'll take a sweet one over a stinky one any day.)

ANYWAY. I am constantly surprised by the things that I've learned and experienced during this mom gig. She's way more magical than I ever knew she'd be. It never occurred to me that changing her diaper could be a bonding experience, as weird as it sounds. It's comforting for me, also, to know that she has a way to bond with loved ones who aren't me.

There's always excitement happening in Reghanland these days.

Like now... Gotta go change a diaper.

She Needs Me (I Need Her)

Baby girl, take it one day at a time...

Maya looks up at me and a tear escapes her eye and rolls down the side of her face. I wipe it away as I sing to her. The frown on her face fades a little as her eyes slowly close. If she were able to talk, I'm sure she'd tell me how tired she is and how much she hates it.

...you can't just grow up overnight...

It breaks my heart to see her so upset, to hear her cry, to watch tiny tears fall down her face. She wimpers a little as her cries fade, and I'm glad I get to be the one that comforts her. I'm glad I get to hold her little body in my arms and sing her songs and comfort her in a way that no one else can.

Baby girl, I know you're feeling butterflies...

I kiss her little cheek, risking stirring her, but I can't resist. She will only be so small for so long, and I don't want to deprive myself of one kiss or hug or goodnight song. I love being able to hand her to a loved one when I want to shower, or eat, or go to the bathroom. But I miss her every second of that time and I don't even question how that is possible.

...but everything will be alright...

At the end of my life, I'll be grateful for every time I got to rock her to sleep.

Everything will be alright.

Mama's Girl

She's a mama's girl. For now. I'm enjoying every second of it while I can.

She looks a lot like her dad.

She's discovered her feet and tongue.

She watches tv sometimes.

At night, she sleeps about six hours, eats, then sleeps another two to four hours before eating again.

She is 2 months & 3 days (or 9 weeks & 1 day) today. She weighs 12lbs 9oz, and is 25" long.

This face is kind of her signature look, which she got from me.

What is this gibberish you speak? You know I'm a person and not a puppy, right?

She's totally into being sung to, and if you're lucky, she'll try to sing along. She's curious about the cat, but hasn't yet tried to investigate. She has this new thing where she gets bored, which is highly inconvenient since she still doesn't care about toys. I'm suspicious that she is frustrated that she can't walk yet. I mean... She's two months old. She shouldn't want to walk already. But she's also figured out how to fake a cough. Babies are full of surprises.

I officially wore her out after a week of constantly going places and seeing people and being passed around and loved on. She told me, in her own words, that she simply had enough and just wanted to go home. We got home, and she promptly took a 4-hour nap that didn't disrupt her sleep pattern that night at all.

So, babies are different than puppies after all. Note to self: Your daughter does not share your Sagittarian qualities.

But man, she's cute.

And she drools a lot now. Cute and slobbery, like a puppy.

And this is why you shouldn't go to sleep angry.

6 Weeks

I'm in bed. I've just coaxed Maya to sleep, and honestly, I'm a little afraid to get up and go pee, even though I really want to, for fear that I'll wake her up. She never cries for no reason, and tonight, the reason is tiredness. Seems like a pretty straightforward solution, to just go to sleep, but not without first letting mama and daddy know how much she hates being tired. Well, me too, little lady, but I love going to sleep! Let's do it together! SLEEP PARTY!

She is officially six weeks old, as of Sunday the 5th. More significantly, it has been six weeks since I had a baby. Six weeks of healing. Of adjusting. Of pelvic rest and ignoring chores and being lazy because I'm tired and I'm tired and also I'm tired. I gave myself the full six weeks - it would be my window, my milestone for how long I'll let whatever I was doing just be enough.

But after... that is when this thing gets real. I needed time to just be for a second, but I also had to give that time a limit. I know me. I'd totally run with it and end up either giving myself no time at all and burning out before things even got real OR becoming a total sloth and watching TV forever while the dishes and the laundry team up to conquer the house.

I used to panic when she slept. I didn't know what to do first. Sleep? Watch TV? Eat? Shower? Clean? It was like I had few precious moments to do whatever I wanted and all I could think about was how angry I was that I was forced to choose between keeping myself alive and keeping myself clean. What kind of a world is that? Now, it's not as scary when deciding what to do with myself when she sleeps. (Though I am still rejecting this whole sleep-or-shower scenario.) Life is getting easier. More normal, if such a thing exists.

I'm excited about living life in my new role. I'm excited about having actual standards again, standards that involve the gym and a semi-clean house and, if we're super lucky, laundry that is not only clean but folded.

But whoa. Let's not get too crazy too fast.

1 Month

I didn't do anything special for Maya's one month birthday, but Justin did get me a present "just because". I guess, if you want to give it a reason or justify the fact that I got a gift and not Maya, you could say it's the one month anniversary of me being a mom. Which it is. (Because she was born at the very same moment that I became a mother. What a coincidence!) You could also say, "What one-month-old needs a birthday gift?" And I would totally back you up.

She outgrew newborn diapers this week. She smiles every day and even sometimes laughs or talks. Pooping is still a big ordeal for her - it takes all her strength and concentration. Her eyes are still blue and her hair is still brown, though it's lighter and longer than it was when she was born. She's great in the car as long as the car is moving. I'm pretty sure she'll be walking as early as next week because holy cow, the girl's got some leg power.

I think all the sleep I haven't been getting in the last month has slowly compounded and has now caught up with me. She started out sleeping pretty well at night, only waking up to eat. Now, I think she may be trying to kill us a little bit.

But, hey, what is parenthood if you're well-rested? There's a word for that, and it's called heaven. And you don't get that kind of heaven in this life. (Or so it seems.) The kind of heaven you get here involves watching your baby's eyes light up every morning when she sees you, her tiny hand grasping your finger, and your husband getting you gifts just because he loves you and telling you you're the strongest and most beautiful woman alive because you are the mother of his child.

So, here I am, nursing my one month old baby at 11:30 at night, because she's starving after eating all day. I'm just praying she'll go back to sleep after this so I can close my own heavy eyelids for a while. If not, I'll have a date with Netflix over the final season of HIMYM that just posted. It's basically a win-win for me, really.

When I look at pictures of her from that first week, when we were still in the hospital, I can't believe how much she's grown since then. One month seemed forever away when I still had that tiny newborn in my arms. Now we're here, and she's pretty much the same as she was but she's not the same at all.

Since I can't stop her from growing anyway, I'm excited to watch her grow, to watch her learn and live and become who she was meant to be.

One month down and we're all still alive. I'd say that's good enough for now, wouldn't you?

A Birth Story (of Sorts)

I was scheduled to be induced on Monday, August 25 at 12:01am.

That did not happen.

Maya was born at 41 weeks and a day, on Sunday, August 24 at 10:02pm. She weighed 7lbs 5oz and was 20.5" long.

At dinner Saturday night, a stranger said his daughter was due in September and he guessed I was due in October. "No, I'm actually a week overdue today." We all laughed and decided his incorrect guess was a compliment. It is, right?

I got basically no sleep on Saturday night thanks to contractions. I was monitoring them using an app on my phone, because how else does anyone do anything these days? I wasn't supposed to go to the hospital until my contractions were 2-5 minutes apart, and I certainly wasn't going to get trigger happy and end up being sent home.

So, Sunday around 4:45pm, my contractions were averaging 4 minutes apart. Not only did they really hurt, but I was feeling a lot of pressure during each one. It no longer mattered to me if they sent me home, and that's how I knew it really was time to go.

When we arrived at the hospital at 5:15pm, we got the last big room available. Fist pump! As the nurse was getting me all strapped in, I was just hoping I'd be dilated to at least a 3, maybe a 4 if I was lucky. So, when she checked me and said I was at a 5 and fully effaced, we were stoked! We alerted the media and waited for my IV and epidural.

After my epidural, it only took about 2 hours for me to be complete and ready to push. My doctor wasn't on call that day, but she came in and delivered my baby anyway because she's the best. I pushed for 35 minutes, which I hear is no time at all for a first baby. This part of the process was the best. It was so bizarre/awesome/crazy to feel her move lower and lower with each push, and to eventually feel her head, then body, be born. The doctor handed her to me and I held her on my chest. She was beautiful and warm and slimy. Out of all her family in the room, she was the only one not crying. Justin cut the umbilical cord, which I had completely forgotten about until I watched him do it.

They asked me if it was okay for them to take her and clean her up. Justin and I had previously discussed how I might feel forgotten or ignored after she was born since she would be getting instant attention and I'd just be laying there by myself, now separated from our new little baby for the first time. I completely forgot about that, too, but Justin didn't. He stayed right next to me, holding my hand. That's when it hit me: she needs us! One of us needs to be with her! I told him he could go to her, and he asked if I'd be okay if he did. "Yes, go!" And then that thing happened like in cartoons where he was gone so fast that all that was left was a big cloud of dust in his place.

I'll admit that I looked at the placenta out of curiosity. Won't be doing that again. I will never ever understand what compels some people to eat those things. Sorry if you're one of those people, except I'm not sorry that I find it disgusting.

I tore a little on the inside, and on Tuesday we discovered I had retained membranes. Conveniently, my doctor was already there delivering another baby. Initially, Maya's bilirubin levels were too high, so I was having to feed her every 2 hours. As soon as she was in the clear on that, her blood sugar level was too low, and she eventually had to be taken to the NICU and put on an IV. This was about as much as our hearts could take. She was on a 3-hour feeding schedule then. Thankfully, she was released less than 24 hours later, and we were both discharged on Wednesday night.

It's a good thing we had a big room, because the number of visitors we had at any given time filled the place. My hospital bag was overpacked, even though I packed light. I didn't expect to use my makeup, but putting some on before we left the hospital might've made me feel a little more human. Before Maya was born, I wanted my first meal post-delivery to be McDonald's. It was, courtesy of Justin's dad, and let me just say that a Big Mac and sweet tea really hit the spot when you're no longer concerned about how much of it is crossing the placenta you no longer have.

Our hospital is contracted with Baby Bloom Photography, so they came in and took newborn shots of Maya. After they were done, they edited the photos and played them for us in a slideshow with music and all. This, my friends, is the easiest way to get a brand new daddy to sign over everything he owns.

"The first of many purchases I'll be making for her."

While there were a few concerns for both Maya and me, it was still an amazing experience. The best experience. And yes, pregnancy can be stressful and last forever. Yes, contractions hurt. My body became foreign, and it will never be the same. I'm exhausted, and I get frustrated at 2am when I'm begging Maya to sleep. I still don't fit my non-maternity jeans. My roots are out of control. Just when I thought I might be getting back to some kind of normal, UTIs and hemorrhoids show up and remind me of the trauma my body recently experienced. I've woken up with dried baby poop on my stomach and not a single day has gone by that breastmilk and spit-up haven't tainted my shirt.

BUT. I would give up my old self and my old life a million times for what I have now.

All the cons still don't out weight the pros. I've always seen life as a give and take. A 50/50 trade. Then I had a baby, and now I'm certain that the trade is not even at all. Big picture: you sacrifice a lot to gain a lot more.

HAVE ALL THE BABIES

My baby is almost a month old. I've been a mom for almost a month, though I didn't feel like one at first. I love her so deeply, but I still don't quite understand my feelings for her. I think of how much God loves her, how much He loves me, and I find myself thinking of how limiting the human body is. My little heart grew bigger than I can even measure and it's still not big enough to hold these emotions.

Every day, I watch Maya taking in the world. She's started to smile (for reasons other than peeing or passing gas) and I'm pretty sure her legs are already stronger than mine. Watching her stretch when she wakes up is basically the highlight of my day. I can't wait to get to know her personality. In the hospital, two different nurses said, "She just knows what she wants," which sounds a bit scary at first, but, hey, a self-assured child who isn't afraid to tell you what she wants is a recipe for success. She might just make our job easy and practically raise herself. Score!

I don't know how most people are, but I'd guess they don't leave the hospital enthusiastically telling the nursing staff, "See you next year!" That's not actually the plan. The year after that, though. [insert winky face here] We loved the process so much, and even the crazy night schedule hasn't deterred our excitement about jumping back into baby-having. If you think we're nuts, or naive, I totally get it. I see how we look. But even with all the stressful and scary moments, this is the best thing we've ever done. I feel more like myself than I ever have. (Though I'd really like to get my hair done or something... I'm at borderline hobo status most of the time, which I'd like to believe is not anywhere close to the real me.) Maybe we're just those kind of people that are in love with having babies. Maybe we'll have ten kids. Lol, jk, smiley face, haha.

No, not ten. Like, eight, tops.

No, no. Really. Only six. Sixteen. No! No.

But I will say I don't know how people have twins. I'd hire a nurse. No, I'd hire a scientist to clone me.

We have yet to take our first trip to Walmart, even though we're out of a ton of stuff. I'm a little afraid to take my not-even-a-month-old baby to Walmart, though, if I'm honest. This probably means the time has finally come when we do what we've said we wanted to do forever and start shopping at Target instead. To make myself feel better about spending a little more on our household items, I'll definitely be making the first thing on my shopping list a huge mocha frappuccino. That's right. Because Walmart just has McDonald's and ain't nobody got time for that. Plus, Walmart is always out of a bunch of stuff I use, so I'm putting my foot down!

I was going to write a post about Maya's birth story, which I still should probably do while it's all fresh on my mind. It would also be a nice break from all the chores I haven't been doing and all the HIMYM I've been watching. (Had to start from the beginning, obviously. I'm about seven episodes away from needing a new show to watch.) Every day that passes gets me a little closer to being human again, and not so zombie-hobo. For now, I'll go eat a piece of the cheesecake Justin bought me and finish watching HIMYM before Maya wakes up. Pfft. Babies are so needy.

***

Postpartum depression hit me like a ton of bricks the night we brought Maya home. It would be another week before I admitted it really was PPD and not just the "baby blues" or me simply being exhausted and emotional. I've come a long way since then, though it's still hard for me to admit. However, I feel like there are too many young women just like me who are having babies to keep something like that private. I thought about putting my experience with it in a post of its own. I needed to know I wasn't alone, and I want to be able to give that to someone else.

***

Welcome

Welcome, Maya Blue. We love you forever.

Exactly one week ago, I was still pregnant. At 5:30pm, I had just checked into the hospital, dilated to a five and fully effaced. In less than five hours, I would be a mother.

The delivery process was amazing. As unreal as it is to have finally met my daughter, it feels like I've known her forever. I feel like a new person, and at the same time, I feel like I've finally become myself.

A week as a mom, and this is already the best/scariest/happiest/most exhausting thing I've ever experienced.

At 10:02pm on Sunday, August 24th, my life began.

40 weeks + a day

There should be a support group for pregnant women who are overdue.

My due date was yesterday, and there have been no signs of baby at all, as of now. It goes without saying that she will come eventually. But that's not the issue. I know she'll be here someday, but that's always been true, even long before I was pregnant. It's that she was supposed to have already arrived. I've been pregnant for a zillion years, and now I'm still pregnant. None of my apps have any kind of encouragement, and I can't find a single forum on the internet that isn't full of halfway-preggos who are hoping they won't be overdue. This forum isn't for you! Go away!

We were fully ready and prepared to bring her home two weeks ago, so any preparations made since are either an added bonus or me redoing something and calling it extra ready. I sleep as much as I can, especially since I wake up frequently throughout the night and can't get back to sleep very easily. This baby is still active, but it's painfully clear to us both (literally, for me) that she's out of room. Walking hurts. My body is sore and tired, but I think the worst of it is that it's like my bones can't stay together. They're all just free-floating between weak muscles and tendons. People say walking helps you start labor, but waking up every morning with gloves for hands and slippers for feet makes walking unappealing. I do it anyway, though, because I don't have a baby yet and I can go anywhere I want. So there.

I had been keeping my hair relatively fixed, just in case, since I'd like to look the least ridiculous after pushing a baby out as possible, but I mostly gave up on that. I started pulling back on it in an attempt to coax her out. Like, of course she'll be born the one time I put off a shower until tomorrow. But, no. The problem with her being in my body is that she's totally onto my tricks. I've tried every peptalk and lecture and bribe I could think of to encourage her, but to no avail. I mean, if a dresser full of adorable clothes won't do it, I don't know what will.

As I get more anxious/frustrated/disappointed/exhausted, Justin gets more and more excited. Guys deal with impending parenthood differently than girls do, and now that we've hit the due date, I think now he really believes she could come at any moment. She could, but knowing this fact is actually almost worse for me. However, it's pretty nice having some strong positive energy to absorb.

I don't even think I need to say how crazy in love with her we are or how badly we want to meet her. We have been given so many good things for her, and I honestly don't think we would be anywhere close to ready if it weren't for all the love and support we've received.

We have an ultrasound on Monday to check on her health and all, so from there, we'll know when to induce (assuming this thing doesn't start on its own). Whether it's a day or two or a week or two, it already feels like a lifetime of waiting for my life to really start.

The Pros of Being Pregnant at 39 & 1/2 Weeks

To be honest, I was sure she'd be born by now. The consistency of all my mom's pregnancies ultimately did nothing to predict, with any accuracy at least, what my experience would be. (I should've seen this coming when I passed my one-hour glucose test.) Here I am, rounding the corner on my due date, and there are zero signs that she's going to be born soon. The most I've got going on is some low menstrual-like cramps and back pain, but it's not even measurable. The doctor and nurses call them Braxton Hicks, but I can't even consider them contractions. (They said my Braxton Hicks contractions are minimal due most likely to the fact that I'm well-hydrated. Insert eye roll here.)

For the first time during this whole pregnancy, I actually started to feel hormonal last week. I took it as a sign that this was almost over, which was a bad idea because that just made me even more anxious. The past couple of days, however, I've mellowed out a bit. She'll come eventually because she really doesn't have a choice.

My next appointment is this Thursday, and if i'm still pregnant by then, I'll be sent to Labor & Delivery to have an ultrasound. As long as everything looks good, they won't induce me for another week after that. I really don't want to be induced. I mean, if I wanted to be induced, I'd just call them today and tell them I want this baby out of me, and that would be the end of it. So, in an effort to not be so impatient, i.e. miserable, I've considered the reasons why still being pregnant right now is actually a good thing.

She's the safest and cleanest and most comfortable she'll ever be in her whole life. I don't have to change dirty diapers yet, or clean up puke, or hear her cry. I don't have to share her with the world yet. I can totally shower all by myself. (Well, as "all by myself" as I can do anything while pregnant, you know. Living for two, and all that.)

Guessing the day she'll be born is kind of like a game now. It really could happen any time. I should've thought about this beforehand and made some sort of a raffle for guessing the day. Hey, I should organize it anyway, because then maybe that would encourage her to come, right in the middle of a big project. That's how kids work, right? Busting in, taking over your stuff, right when you need them to not do that?

See, I'm a kid expert already. I have that skill, thanks to never actually having been a parent before. Add that to the list of good things about still being pregnant.

One of my best friends was able to take some maternity pics for us, which turned out awesome, so basically now I've done everything I can to be prepared for this baby. Ultimately, though, that means nothing, because when I think about actually going into labor, I forget everything I know and become the biggest rookie to ever have a baby, ever.

So... Any day now!

38 weeks + 2 days

You people have no clue how ready I am to have this baby. I am so done being pregnant, just waiting around. I'm so tired all the time. Feeling her move is still as awesome as ever, probably more so now that she's like a real live borned baby, but what the hay bales do I have to do to make her get out here?!

And, apparently, I've gained too much weight since my previous appointment. Problem is that they gave zero clue where I'm hiding this weight, and everything else is perfect as always, so now I have the fun task of a 24-hour urine test. My uterus measures appropriately, so they aren't even considering that this weight is in the baby. "It's probably because you're tall," they say, "but we'll have you do this test just to check." Okay, great. Now I have even more incentive to have this baby ASAP. Just what I needed, ANOTHER reason to want her out of me.

Don't get me wrong. If the worst thing I have to endure in regards to this pregnancy is collect my pee for 24 hours at 9 months pregnant, I'll take it. But c'mon. This late in the game, they might as well just let it go, because all this does is give me one more thing to try not to stress about.

We've got 1 week and 5 days left until her due date, which basically means we just need to be ready at all times. Our bags are packed and, so far, I've done pretty well keeping my hair at least sorta fixed. (Still heavily relying on "glow".) In my fantasy world, my water breaks after a restful night and a good breakfast. The problem with that is that a restful night is a laughable notion, and a "good breakfast" depends highly on your definitions of "good" and "breakfast".

I've started this new fun thing where I have elaborate and vivid dreams that aren't nightmarish but aren't pleasant. I wake up multiple times during the night to pee (as always) and come back to bed and just sit there. Why? Because I can't sleep. Why? Because life is cruel and sleeping well for even one final night before bringing home a newborn baby would probably be some sort of false comfort, and therefore, a crime.

Unfortunately, this whole post has been one giant complain-fest about how impatient I am. And exhausted. And impatient.

Can I have this baby now?

Okay, I'm done being pregnant now.

I've been sick all weekend, or I totally would've posted (or even taken) 36-week photos. My car won't start this morning, which is really a blessing because I intended to go to work today even though I'm still feeling sick. (I have a... summer cold? "Pregnancy cold"? Probably the dumbest thing ever invented. Bottom line is that besides not being able to breathe even more than usual and having a stuffy/sneezy/runny nose from hell, my whole body hurts and my brain is stuck in this half-sleep/half-awake state that pretty much makes me worthless as a human.) I was feeling moderately better when I snoozed my alarm 7 times and got up and dressed, but now I feel like I did all weekend and I'm thinking maybe it's best that I stayed home. I am 8 months pregnant. Due in 3 weeks and 5 days, as of today, and if that doesn't freak you out, I don't know what will.

Don't be mistaken, though. I am more ready than anyone for this girl to be born. I'd like to live in a non-pregnant body again, and I want to finally meet her. I used to be torn about wanting her in my arms vs. loving her in my belly. Today, I'm not torn. Feeling her squirm in my stomach is awesome and magical and beautiful and sometimes painful, but that cannot possibly compare to holding her to my skin and kissing her little face. Amirite, moms of the world? I'm gonna assume it's totally normal at this point to be done with this whole pregnancy thing and want to just go ahead and give birth now. Plus, I've already washed her clothes and organized her stuff and packed the diaper bag, so I'm thinking I'm basically ready now.

Oh, and I want you to know that washing a year's worth of clothes is incredibly difficult when you're pregnant, regardless of how small the clothes actually are. What's worse is that I only thought I washed every last onesie and sock and wash cloth we have for the first year, only to realize, when I was already mostly dead, that I didn't wash her 6-9 month clothes. In the grand scheme of things, this is totally fine. I mean, she isn't even born yet. I wonder a little bit about why I even bothered washing so many clothes in the first place, but when I imagine a scenario in which I didn't wash all those clothes, I feel like I just would've been setting myself up for more work later, when I'd rather be enjoying things like baby snuggles and avoiding household chores. I washed her 6-9 month clothes, though, just for the sake of consistency. Then, naturally, put them away because it'll be 6 months before she needs them. -ish.

My next baby bump appointment is tomorrow, which is the first of my weekly appointments and the first where my dilation will start being checked. In reality, we do have a few things that still need to get done, and, for baby's sake, I'd like her to cook as long as she needs... but that doesn't make it any less exciting to know that we're almost done. I am just a few short weeks away from having my very own baby!

Though I'll admit it's a little scary. When I called with a positive pregnancy test to make my very first appointment, they were all, "Great, here's your due date, and your first appointment is a zillion years from now at your 10- to 12-week mark." Uuuuh, what?! You're just going to leave me on my own 'til then? Now, I'm gonna go have this baby, and then they'll just send us home and be like, "Good luck!" And we'll get in the car and wonder why in the heck they just let first-timers walk out of there with nothing but natural instinct and some basic common knowledge to keep this fragile, foreign creature alive and unharmed. And right about the time that I'll be thinking we can maybe do this thing, a nurse will pop her head out the doors and yell, "Oh, yeah, and good luck with your new body, too! Gonna be a doozy getting it back to normal!"

Listen, I'm just saying what all first-timers are thinking. Maybe when Baby #2 comes around, I'll be a pro. Heck, I'll deliver that baby myself. Doctors? Pfft. I got this.

Sorry, Baby #1. We get to learn together.

But I'm not really sorry at all.

I've Accomplished Nothing (Unless Napping Counts)

Time left until her due date: 4 weeks & 3 days

Things I haven't done yet:

1. Washed her clothes

2. Packed my hospital bag

3. Installed her car seat

4. Sent out thank-you cards
5. Had maternity photos taken (Do I really have to?)
+ a ton of other stuff that I'm too tired to think about.

Justin goes to the gym, I stay home and nap. He folds the laundry while I surf Pinterest. He massages my feet while I go to sleep.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that one of us is on top of things, and it's not me. He hasn't packed his hospital bag either, and he's totally going to be the one to install her car seat, but he's got energy and motivation and I have exactly none of either. The RN who instructed our birthing class said if mama starts "nesting", dad needs to shut that down! Precious energy must be saved for pushing that baby out! I love this advice and I don't love this advice. 'Cause stuff needs to get done, yeah, but nesting isn't so different from nestling when you're big and tired and ready to both meet your baby and not be pregnant.

I can sense, somewhere deep inside, that I'm about to let it go, let it goooo! (Fun fact: Customer service is not the most ideal job when you're 8 months pregnant and have had it up to *here*.) Multiple times a day, I think of all the clothes I've sorted that still need to be washed, our room that needs a bit of rearranging to fit her bassinet, the hospital bag I haven't packed and what I need to put in there, and the car that still needs a car seat so we can even bring her home. I haven't sent out thank-you cards for all the gifts we've received, but I also haven't had maternity photos done or even put makeup on most days, so that makes it okay...?

At the beginning of this post, I wanted to nap. Now, I want to get all of this stuff done right now AND nap.

We need a few key things in life at this point, and any prayers you can send up for us will be appreciated more than you know. We have been extremely blessed to have a smooth pregnancy and a healthy baby & mama. This is the home stretch, people!

Four weeks and three days is not a long time. And that's probably not even entirely accurate at this point. How many babies are actually delivered on their due date? I got distracted while researching that percentage and found a few resources that say your mother's birth history can be a good indicator for your own experience. If that's true, every baby I ever give birth to will come a week early. That will never do. Three weeks is simply not enough time. Ugh, but it's too much time! Will this be my life forever? Will I be constantly ripped back and forth from too much time and not enough time? I have a whole paragraph of things to get done in four three weeks. And look at me now. Blogging. Pfft.

I gotta go wash baby clothes or nap or something.

Pregnancy: All Its Glory

The fact that I haven't posted anything since 29 weeks is blowing my mind. That was years ago! I sit here now at 34 weeks and 5 days, which means her due date is barely more than 5 weeks away. Mentally and emotionally, I could not be more ready. Pregnancy is the longest thing I've ever done in my entire life, and I am so ready to finally hold her in my arms and kiss her little face.

These days, my rib cage and hip bones are fun toys to try and shatter. My bladder is more like a water bed or trampoline of some kind than anything else. She's probably the strongest baby in all the land, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if she just burst right out of my stomach to make her debut.

So far, I've gained more weight than they wanted me to gain by the end of the whole pregnancy, but the doctor and nurses just can't see where I'm hiding it, so they don't really care. They comment on my height at every single appointment, but no one seems to take the newbie seriously when I say I'm a little concerned I could hide a 10 pound baby in this mile-long torso of mine. WELL WE WILL SEE, WON'T WE?! (This is one of times where I'm totally okay with being wrong. I mean, "I told you so" just loses its punch when I'm the only one suffering.)

My ankles had a moment where they were so swollen, it looked like I was wearing ankle cuffs. I should say that this is not the norm, thankfully, but holy cow. Speaking of cows... my stomach is so tiny now. It can't hold anything. I graze. I'm a cow, but not in the way I thought I'd be a cow.

All in all, physically, I have no idea what to think of myself. The list of symptoms is way too long to mention all the pros and cons, but the bottom line is that I feel, simultaneously, at my best and worst. I heavily rely on whatever glow pregnancy is supposed to give me, because I mostly look like crap these days. I have roughly 2 pieces of clothing that fit me. Back in December, I was all, "Oh, yeah, I'm gonna live in maxi dresses all summer," which is so stupid because SUMMER IS HOT. It's hot. I don't care how late our spring rain is this year, it is way too hot for a maxi dress. All that heat gets trapped under there and I just can't do it. I need mini dresses. Sleeveless mini dresses that are soft and comfortable and that hold me together without cutting me in half. Is that too much to ask?

5 weeks and 2 days left. I have mixed feelings about pregnancy but my feelings about meeting/holding/kissing/staring at/singing to this baby are very clear. I'm ready whenever she's ready. (But excuse me while I roll my eyes because I know, I know, she needs more time. I GET IT.) Maybe tomorrow I can be selfless and who cares what I want because blahblahblah, it's all about her. But, you know what? It's gonna be all about her FOREVER for the rest of my life. I claim today, and maybe tomorrow, and the next week and maybe the week after that and the week after that. It's not a crime to want to meet my baby already, even if she needs a few more weeks to cook. I wanted to meet her in December when I learned about her and I want to meet her even more now, when she's almost ready to meet me.

ALMOST!