The Last Few Days…39 weeks

Still here.  Still round.

Devo suggested this morning that I stay home from Sabbath School and church and let him take the girls.  It was…divine.

I looked at the filthy kitchen floor and thought, “I really need to do something about this.”  But I couldn’t.  I love Sabbath.

I looked at the accumulation of grime around the sink faucet and thought, “I should scrub that.”  But I didn’t.  I love Sabbath.

Instead, I took a leisurely bath.  And did my hair.  And wafted through the house, carefree, and with a beatific smile on my face.

And then I put on jeans and a shirt and moseyed down the road to church.  Under an umbrella.  Got there in time to see people (and shrug my shoulders when they gazed inquiringly at my still-large belly) and eat lunch.

I could do that again.

Maybe once a month.

Or once every seven weeks.

Or once a quarter.


You know, today and tomorrow would actually be a great time to go into labor…my midwife is down in San Diego camping with her family and participating in an Epilepsy Run with her 9yo son.  Isn’t labor supposed to happen when it’s least convenient?

But for her sake (and my own well-developed sense of guilt), I hope not.  I’m thinking that tomorrow would be a perfect day to spend in the garden, now that it’s warm enough again to get out the pool for the girls.

I am completely miffed that the pool and spa here at our association is and has been closed.  $175 in association fees should dang well assure us of a working pool…but it’s closed what seems like half the year.  And here I was so glad that I would be able to float weightlessly when heavy with child this time.  HA.

Not that I feel that heavy.  All the walking and yoga has kept me pretty spry this time around.  (I distinctly remember with Lia having to sit down in the middle of Costco because it just seemed too hard to haul my body any further…and I was only like 7 months).  But I am beginning to peek at magazines that feature people of non-pregnant proportions and think about how nice it will be not to always be misjudging how far my stomach is sticking out and scraping it on door jambs.  It will also be nice to hold my wiggly children without a constant harangue of, “Ouch! Careful! Don’t put your elbow on Mommy’s tummy!”

The last few days I have been very hungry for mahi mahi and a baked potato.  I guess those few days I skipped of my nightly protein shake depleted my protein resources.  We considered taking the girls out with us so that I could have some, but I didn’t think I could deal gracefully with the moral discussions my eldest daughter would want to have.  I did eat fish in her presence (and she noticed) a month or so ago…and it was fairly traumatic for both of us.  My explanation that eating a little bit of fish helps the baby to grow seemed to mostly appease her consternation that I was consuming an animal that had been killed for my eating pleasure.  But it would be much easier if I did it on the sly.  🙂

Apparently my shape has changed.  All throughout my pregnancy people (both people I know and complete strangers) have looked me over and said, “It’s a boy, right?”  But in the last week, two or three people have thought I’m having a girl.  What does that mean?  I’m not as pointy anymore?

Well, it’s now 10 o’clock, officially bedtime.  I didn’t take a nap today, having been so revived by my hours of solitude.  I decided this morning that I’m not going to complain anymore about not sleeping well.  The first few times it’s okay to complain, I think, because it’s something out of the norm.  But now it’s just a matter of course, and no matter how woebegone I feel after yet another night of restless sleep, it’s really not going to do me any good to whine to Devo.  Indeed, if I were him, I’d be pretty fed up with my morning complaints.  And the post-nap complaints.  And the pre-bedtime complaints.  And the middle of the night complaints, delivered in fatigue-induced slurred speech.

But I’m a sensitive creature right now.  I need to feel that someone knows and feels my pain.  I have absolutely no desire to be a silent and courageous martyr.  So, I think I will just tell Devo that unless otherwise informed, I did NOT sleep well and will definitely need a nap.

I’m thanking my lucky stars that the neighbor’s party’s live band tonight is not mariachi, but I’m wondering if I should hold off on my resolution not to complain.  I might really really want to in the morning.  Or, indeed, even tonight.


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