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!

29 Weeks

Hello, Third Trimester. We've been waiting for you.

This is the home stretch, now. Last week in the twenties. Last trimester before we meet our baby, before I become a non-pregnant version of myself again. First and second trimesters are done, and I'll never have those "firsts" again. This pregnancy has gone so slow for me, so I'm a little bit surprised that the third trimester is here. It certainly didn't sneak up on me, but I did start to doubt if time was actually moving.

This baby moves ALL THE TIME. All the time. At my last appointment, my doctor said they want ten kicks a day. "HA!" I said. I got ten kicks just while we were in the waiting room. And another ten since we've been in the exam room. That's just a warm-up to the warm-up to her warm-up exercise.

10 kicks. Pfft. Honestly.

So, we're investing in running shoes for when she starts walking.

Some awesome news is that I passed my glucose test. YAY! I was sure I was going to fail that, being hypoglycemic and all, but now I'm questioning everything I've ever known. This changes my whole outlook on life!

Some not-so-awesome news is that I am officially uncomfortable living in this new body of mine. Heartburn is a killer. I can't breathe if I lay on my back or if I eat anything. My feet, ankles, and calves are basically permanently swollen. Almost none of my pre-pregnancy clothes fit me anymore, and I nearly had a heart attack when I put on a non-maternity tank top that looks just like one of my maternity tank tops as you can imagine because I AM NOT THAT HUGE YET. WHY IS THIS TOO SMALL?! Upon realizing my mistake, the feeling of relief lasted only a second, because then I realized something else: Normal clothes don't fit me. This is life now.

My problem is that I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac. I didn't want to assume I'd have a bunch of symptoms just because I'm pregnant. It seems good and all, not to anticipate complaints, but I took it way too far. Every symptom I've had - you know, normal, common pregnancy symptoms - has taken me by surprise. Allergies? Swollen feet? Out of breath? Trouble sleeping? Heartburn? Leg cramps? Constant exhaustion? You mean all of these are real and they're happening to me? I get to be a member of the pregnancy party?

My belly button is starting to do its own thing. Hope it doesn't get too crazy.

When my doctor told me about how much weight I should gain by the end of this thing, I thought, Okay, seems right and normal and not a big deal at all. Then I reached a weight that totally and completely took me by surprise, as if I had never actually done the math and thought about the numbers. And we still have a whole trimester left! My doctor laughed when I asked, in a very animated way, how big of a problem it was that I had gained enough weight for nearly the rest of the pregnancy.

Turns out, I'm totally ridiculous and she's not worried at all. Hey, she's the doctor. And I don't have a scale at home, so, I'll just keep eating everything all the time.

I can assure you that this baby isn't complaining about that.

"Is my belly really that big?"
"Yes, babe, and it's only going to get bigger."

100 Days

I was told by nearly everyone that pregnancy would fly by. All of these people lied. This has been the longest thing I've ever done, ever.

It's miraculous and wonderful and freaky and awesome, and I hope to do it again (and again and again) because I really love it. But I'd be lying if I said I want it to last forever, because I don't. Yeah, yeah, the physical struggles. Whatever. Those are annoying, but I can brush those off fairly easily because I know they're temporary. Brushing off the anticipation of seeing this baby - my baby - for the first time... Not so easy. Not easy at all.

Let's also not pretend that I'm not looking forward to getting my body back. I want to improve my physical form, not watch it bloat up more and more every day, right before my eyes.

I live for the next kick in my stomach, for the next time she topples over and punches me square in the bladder. I live for the next appointment, for the next time we hear her heartbeat, for the next Saturday when I'm a week closer to holding her in my arms.

I also live for the next big, juicy, rare steak I'll devour after inhaling about six Caesar salads will all the delicious raw egg Caesar dressing I can fit in the bowl. (This is where my head's at.)

100 days is all that's left in this pregnancy gig. 100 days to get prepared to come home with a baby one day. Emotionally and mentally, I'm about as ready as I'll ever be. Past ready, in fact. Like I said, this thing has taken forever. Once the ultrasounds were done, I was ready to meet her. That's the next thing? Alright, let's do it.

As it turns out, pregnancy doesn't work that way. You wait. Baby comes when baby comes. It should take nine months, i.e. forever. "It will fly by!" they say. It might not. It might be the longest thing you've done besides life, and that's barely a fair comparison.

So then, I hear "100 days" and I'm 100% torn about whether that is a short amount of time or not.

Either way, the clock's tickin'.

***

(Also, I highly recommend avoiding strep throat at any time, especially when pregnant. It is the actual worst.)

25 Weeks + some days

This baby inside me is huge. I mean, she's small for a baby, but huge for being in my stomach! I've gotten used to [not] sleeping and I've adjusted to the heartburn, but my trusty body is not as trusty as it used to be. I don't know that I'll ever really adjust to the physical issues, partly because I've been in denial about a lot of them.

You don't have to have a beach ball belly to struggle to get out of bed. You don't have to have a short torso to have fiery heartburn. Pregnancy brain is real. Swollen feet/ankles/calves are just a part of life.

As of the last week, I can't have a single thing in my stomach without feeling like my belly skin is stretched to it's limit. That's a thing now.

Also as of the last week, baby girl is official viable outside the womb! Milestones!

 

Pregnancy is weird, don't you think? You have this baby in there - a real, live baby - and it's just growing away, waiting to be born.

Spring is in full swing. Of course, it feels a lot more like summer most of the time, but I'm not complaining about that. (Yet.) Spring means it's officially time to register. I was putting off doing this until after Justin's birthday, but now that that's done, the registry lobe in my brain has totally shut down. Nesting is a real thing, too, and I blame that for the fact that I'm overwhelmed. (But I'm still in denial about that.)

Stop nesting. The nurse in birthing class said not to waste energy.

This baby girl has more clothes than I know what to do with. All I want to do is sort them and wash them and hang them up.

What does she know?

How soon is too soon to decorate a nursery?

25 weeks. The calendar on the fridge won't need to be rewritten until 30 weeks. I remember when it said 8 weeks and I wrote "raspberry" in red marker because that's how big she was then. I didn't know she was a she yet. I hadn't had my first ultrasound yet. I hadn't even heard her heartbeat yet.

Now, the calendar goes all the way to 30 weeks, and I stopped keeping track of how big she is in relation to fruit a long time ago.

We're so so so so so so close. Excited doesn't begin to cover how we feel. 

Birthing Class, the Hospital, & I need how much water?

I have a pretty hot looking selfie of me sitting under the dryer at the hair salon, and that's the only picture I've taken between my last post and now.

I haven't been doing nothing, though, because we started our birthing class! AND we took a tour of the hospital. Now I am officially stoked. I'm in full-on LET'S HAVE THIS BABY mode and I CANNOT CONTAIN IT.

Our birthing class is three Saturdays in a row, of which we have two left. It's starts in the morning and lasts until 1pm, and they have the best fruit and donuts and blueberry muffins that we all just snack on the entire time. We got fancy travel cups (mugs? glasses?) that we're instructed to drink 8-10 of a day while pregnant, which is basically impossible. Only half of that has doubled the number of trips I take to the bathroom every day, and frankly, I can't have that. I just can't. I've also decided that my bladder has a secret trap door to hold extra fluid until 30 seconds after I only thought I emptied my bladder.

The teacher of the class is an actual labor & delivery RN at the hospital. (Fun fact: My hospital has only RNs, no LPNs.) One of the models she used was a life-size pelvic bone. I'm not normally squeamish, but seeing that instantly disgusted me, and I remember thinking of my nurse friend and how she's the only person I know who would've been fascinated by it. Then the nurse passed it around for all of us to see, or touch or whatever, and I was like NO. I passed it on to the next couple by holding it with only two fingers on each edge, because I don't want to imagine MY pelvic bone or the baby - that's currently stuck in my body and is already too big to get out of there painlessly - being a full-size newborn and having to fit its whole body through that bone. How is this not disturbing to everyone?!

Besides that, the class was so fun. I have tried to stay pretty educated on this whole pregnancy/labor/delivery thing, but I learned more in this one day of class than I ever thought I would. We practiced labor positions and breathing through contractions, which was nothing like hee-hee-hoo and more like actual breathing. She let us have about 80 trips to the bathroom, which was awesome. I love classes catered to pregnant women! Leave food out all day and give us a ton of potty breaks.

Currently, Baby Girl is stretching and deforming my stomach, which is, by the way, the strangest and most amazing thing I've ever experienced.

The goal of the birthing class is to give you enough knowledge on the process of labor and delivery to take away the fear. What's funny, though, is that seeing the hospital room did that very thing. (Plus, we learned all about the details of their infant security, which really helped papa bear cope with the whole thing because he was not as immediately fearless and Let's have her today! as I was. You know, the whole Sag vs. Taurus thing we've got going on.) Our top priority is that she and I are healthy and that everything goes well, but that goes without saying. Aside from that, I'm just hoping we get one of the big rooms at the hospital instead of a small room. Hahahahaha. Really, though.

Homework for myself:
1. Take more pictures.
2. Drink more water...but do I have to?
3. Stop trying to sleep on your back. It's over.