I’m 34 weeks this week.
THIRTY FOUR WEEKS? Are you kidding me? How did my internal pregnancy counter stop around 25 weeks while real time kept ticking?
That’s three weeks from “full term”, six weeks from “due date”, and way way way too close to “labor”.
I’m, um, not ready yet.
But just because I’m not ready doesn’t mean that I’m reckless…the clothes are ready, the carseat is ready (oh, yeah, we’d better figure out a car with six seats and PRONTO), the baby swing is up and running (unless the kids turned on the music again and drained the batteries…whoever designed baby swings with a musical feature did not have more than one child). We’re pretty good to go in the details department. All I need is a cheesecake in the freezer to instantly put back on whatever weight I lose at birth.
Despite my small (as usual) belly size, I’m definitely entering the ponderous state of The End.
You know those belly packs that they have for sex ed classes and expectant fathers to try on? You know the ones that add the extra weight of pregnant breasts and belly? I feel like I’m wearing one of those. It’s odd. I’m often overcome by a desire to rig up some sort of contraction to just release me from the added weight.
Edited to add:: Talk about a Freudian slip! I want to rig up some sort of “conTRAPtion”…but I guess some sort of contraction would probably do the trick as well. hahahahahaha.
Good thing I gained all that backside weight in the first trimester. It’s keeping me balanced.
I get to the top of a flight of stairs with Levi on my hip and I’m out of breath, feeling like a wimp. Sheepish. Slightly disgusted. But then I think, Who wouldn’t be out of breath when lugging an extra 50 pounds up the stairs? Then I feel better.
The temperature finally spiked this week (trying not to feel guilty about running the AC, but desperate times call for desperate measures). And both pools available to us are…unavailable. Consternation of the cruelest sort. The school pool is closed between spring and summer session…okay, no big deal. The condo pool (for which is paid an exorbitant amount of dues) is unavailable due to ducks.
I don’t think I like ducks anymore.
(This is the home owners association that let the pool remain closed for four months of the spring/summer two years ago. They are not known for quick and urgent action on pool matters).
In other news, I’m working on my labor attitude. My birth preparation philosophy this time around is to BE HERE NOW. Take it moment by moment. With calm, centered breathing. I know I can do this…I’ve done it twice*.
*Amelie’s labor had nothing remotely in common with moment-by-moment or calm, centered breathing. That labor basically took me and shook me until I didn’t know which way was up. A completely out of control vortex of wildness. In the birth video you actually hear me saying -crying? Baby, just come out! Please, just come out!
But, by the same token, I also find myself in long conversations with myself about what kind of labor I think I could handle gracefully. Without undue anxiety in the preceding weeks. And my parameters usually involve “painless” and “short”. Which is really not very helpful, considering.
I’ve definitely got some psychological work to do here. But not at night…it’s not a good idea to try and be rational and calm at the tail end of a day. Somehow, I’d like to move from the thought of starting labor as a shrinking, oh no, oh no, oh no to wow, this is exciting or hooray or at least a kind of vigorous let’s get this show on the road.
But you know what? It’s night, the tail end of a long and productive day and I’m lacking in oomph, to put it mildly. Not the time to think about this stuff. Let’s do it tomorrow instead.