Or, in other words, my most recent exam at the doctor’s. Baby’s doing fine, gained only one pound since my visit 2 weeks ago (and since at that visit, I didn’t gain any, and the previous time I didn’t gain any either, it’s about 1 or 2 pounds for the last two months. Rock on!), cervix is nice and closed and high and as Dr. K says, “You won’t be laboring anytime soon.” Phew.

However, the reason I say wimp is, OW. Internal exams hurt. First, he did the swab for the group b strep, which was less painful than a pap, but goddamn, I hate paps; and then he checked my cervix (head is down, yay) by pressing, uh, his fingers toward each other - one checking the cervix and the other hand pressing slightly at the top of my uterus.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

I am so yowza about this now, and it was just a finger testing me. I am going to be stretched out to bits in a few weeks (holy shit) and a head and body is going to come out of me. Christ. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

On the plus side, Dr. K is a lot less concerned about the baby’s size than I am. He’s also not too worried about not being present for the baby’s arrival - he’ll be the weekend duty OB two weekends before the baby is due. Here’s hoping for a mid-week birth. I am now going into see Dr. K weekly.

***

I got home tonight and am kind of glum. I am looking around at our apartment, and while conceivably and logically there’s not a whole lot to do to whip this place into shape, it is overwhelming to me. Josh has been absolutely fabulous about taking care of things - he does all of the cooking and cleaning right now - but there are some things that I want to do myself - like get rid of clutter, especially on my desk and in that area, and just tidy up. Vacuum. Blah.

It’s not the state of our apartment that is entirely making me glum - it’s sort of everything right now. I am anxious for the baby to come. I am getting tired of being pregnant, and that is a melancholy feeling in and of itself for me, as I have really, really enjoyed pregnancy thus far. I am tired of the charley horses, I am tired of the random jabs and pains in my bladder, I am tired of wearing the same four or five outfits, I am tired of waking up twice a night to go to the bathroom, I am tired of waking up to turn over because it hurts otherwise, I am tired of walking because my pelvis feels like it’s going to break. I am tired of being tired, and I am tired of being cranky all of the time. I miss running - there’s the Chicago Half-Marathon that I don’t think I’ll be ready to run post-birth, I miss the body my body was becoming before becoming pregnant.

That’s about it. Tired and cranky. 36 weeks pregnant. 4 more til the due date.

admin note: if you’re interested in hopping on the notify list to be informed when the babe makes his grand appearance, feel free to sign up. The notify is one-way only and notifies of new entries, on the site here as well as when the baby is born. email me to be added.

Gulp.

I am huge.

***

Things are going smoothly. I’m giving myself until the end of this week to have the major pieces of stuff together for work done and complete. Baby’s movements are huge now, and feels like when he stretches, he’s pushing my spleen out through my belly button. He kicks pretty hard still, and when he shifts and kicks and moves around, my bra straps shake. Pelvis still feels like splitting in half, and at the second half of the lamaze class, the nurse advised that I talk to the doctor about it, because there might be something he can recommend (i.e., going to a physical therapist to learn new exercises, etc.).

I called and made appointments to meet with two pediatricians that Dr. K recommends, and when I called, the receptionist gushed about both of the pediatricians, so at least that’s a plus. There’s also a nurse practitioner on staff who is a lactation consultant, and we can take the baby to see that person in addition to or instead of the primary physician.

Otherwise, little else is happening. This weekend I am setting aside to CLEAN and pretend to nest. My desk is a disaster area.

(photo by K. Zuckert)

Happy anniversary, sweetheart. These last two years have been overwhelmingly awesome.

Now, get into the kitchen and bake me a turkey pot pie.

admin note: if you’re interested in hopping on the notify list to be informed when the babe makes his grand appearance, feel free to sign up. The notify is one-way only and notifies of new entries, on the site here as well as when the baby is born. email me to be added.

Today we had part one of a two-day/weekend lamaze workshop, and it’s been a good experience thus far - the breathing might be hokey and silly, but the relaxation piece had me nearly asleep at one point (I think I might have been inclined to snooze a little though; I woke up really early this morning (5:10AM!) for no apparent reason), and seeing and talking through positive birth experiences and the stages of labor has me much more relaxed about birth in general. I’m still anxious and worried, but I am always anxious and worried. Josh did a great job of being a supporter today and I have no doubt that with him there I will be a-okay.

We talked on the way home about how I was feeling about the birthing process and everything, and I am feeling good. Everywhere you turn online and offline you have people giving you an opinion about how the ideal birth should happen - you should/shouldn’t have an epidural/pain medication/medical intervention; you should/shouldn’t give birth in a hospital/at home/in a taxi; you should/shouldn’t breastfeed/bottlefeed/JackDaniels feed - the list goes on. I am amazed at the opinions that spout out at you not when you’re ASKED, but by virtue of having a swollen abdomen. It is like the mere fact I am pregnant automatically solicits unwanted advice and information.

Some of it I don’t mind, but man, at just about 9 months pregnant (side note, holy crap, how on earth did the time fly so fast?), the last thing I want to hear is a negative birth story and how XYZ didn’t work for you. I know the negative is out there - god, don’t you think I can do a fair enough job at keeping my head filled with horror stories of stalled labor, emergency c-sections, and all sorts of horrific things that will happen to my baby and me if I don’t do whatever it is I’m being recommended to do? Christ. I am very good at overreacting, people. I don’t need help doing that.

At any rate, what I was telling Josh is that I love the hospital we’re planning on using (very family-oriented, pro-breastfeeding, etc.), I love my doctor, I know my body and myself and I want to have a good birth experience. No matter what, I want to have a good and safe birth experience. If that means I have pain medication when I think it’s necessary, if that means inducing labor when my doctor recommends it and I concur, if that means needing to have a c-section. For the last nine months, Dr. K and I have been getting to know each other. He’s given birth to more babies (well, you know, assisted with them!) than I ever will. I trust him implicitly. He doesn’t want shitty things happening to me or to the baby, and I know he won’t let that happen.

At some point along the line, I feel like I need to put my trust into the system in place and go along for the ride. Not blindly, but willingly. I am willing. I am ready. I am able.

I am not going to go in and demand interventions, but I am not going to unnecessarily torture myself or the baby by being stubborn and uncooperative either. All that being said, someone earlier asked me what my birth plan was, and it is simple. “Don’t let me or my baby die.”

Everything else, as it should be, is negotiable.

We did the ultrasound first today, and Baby Alien is measuring well in his amniotic fluid sac o’food. The tech said that they like there to be a minimum of 8cm of fluid and he’s comfy in 10.25 or something like that, so, yay! I asked if she could tell how big he was and she chastised me a little, saying that the order was only for the amniotic fluid check, but she’d check anyway. He’s about 7.5 lbs (!) and measuring about a week ahead, in the 81st percentile for size. Yikes!

The non-stress test went well too - he moved around appropriately and had good resting and moving heartbeat rates. All in all, a nice visit.

***

Now, if I could get one goddamned night of sleep that was longer than 5 hours, that would be just peachy. Lord. I am overly hot, wanting the apartment to be an ice box, and cranky to boot. I have been putting in late hours to get shit DONE and I’m tired of it. I’m just tired and cranky in general. Bleh. My pelvis feels like it’s going to split in half and walking is just so uncomfortable.

He’s coming, and so soon. I am both excited and impatient, and not ready at all.

Thirty five weeks. Two more until full-term. Holy shit on a stick. Also, I look like I swallowed a volleyball!

I am down to a handful of clothes I ever feel like wearing anymore and my abdomen is slowly expanding to make even these feel tight and uncomfortable some times. I have three sleeveless tops in three different colors, two tanks of differing colors, a pair of gaucho pants, two skirts (same style, different color), and two pairs of pants. I am doing laundry every other day, it seems, and at this point, I am sort of excited to get back into my regular schlubby clothes.

My pelvis has gone on strike and is taking my vagina with it. My legs are threatening to split right apart. The baby is huge inside me and at times I have trouble breathing because he’s jampacked inside - not much more room to maneuver!

Sleep is starting to get fractured again, especially with the heat. I am bound and determined to buy a box fan and stick it in the bedroom window, if only to pump some fresh air into the room because clearly the ceiling fan itself isn’t cutting it. Josh looks at me strangely, and he should - it’s only down to like 68-70 degrees at night but I am waking up in a pool of sweat. Yuck.

I think I started nesting - only at the office. My own office is just about entirely clean, I have a neat pile of things I need to get done, and I almost started cleaning the outer office, getting rid of crap we no longer need, but I refrained, because, well, I have a lot of stuff yet to do!! I had a wee, wee little spotting scare this weekend (cervix was irritated, I won’t tell you why, because you can probably guess) but all is fine, but it’s prompted me to get my ass into gear. I want to be through with my major tasks by the end of the week and spend the rest of my time in the office doing other less vital but still important things (like annual reports. Yay!).

Yargh. Too little time! Must still finalize a pediatrician. Buy a nursing bra. Etc.

2 weeks til full-term!

Every night before I fall asleep, Josh talks to the baby. Sometimes he jokes around with him (okay, okay, me), saying things like, “I promise I won’t let your mom be too paranoid around you,” or updating him on random events he’s got no idea about, “Today your mom and I went to a newborn preparation class.”

A lot of the times he’ll rub my belly and tell him how much we are both anticipating and longing for his arrival (not now, in a few weeks, because Mom has too much at work to do quite yet), about how much love both of us have for him. He’ll tell the baby how amazing it is to him that he can love someone as much as he loves the baby without even having met him yet, only by feeling him kick and press me from within.

When I envision our lives in a few weeks, after the baby arrives, visions of firsts dance in my head. I am looking forward to the first time we see the baby smile, the first time he laughs - and when I ask Josh the same question, he muses about sharing his love of baseball with the baby, reading to him all of his favorite books (I am anticipating a long, long run of the Lord of the Rings books to the poor, immobile child), and listening to his favorite music.

From time to time, Josh will caress my belly and ask, “Are you excited about meeting the baby?” to which I answer, “Yes!” This child is coming into our home already well-loved - and not just by me, but by Josh. The changes I see in him bring tears to my eyes - he was talking on the phone to his parents a few weeks ago and mentioned how baby and family things affect him a lot differently now. He has taken on a lot of the household chores in the house, as we wind down the last few weeks of baby preparation, in time for our new arrival.

I can’t imagine going into the journey of parenthood with any other partner. Happy Father’s Day, Josh. Our baby is a lucky boy to have you as his daddy.

First things first - THE BABY IS HEADED IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION thank GOD. I thought he was going to take after Josh and be all difficult (hee, love you J) but he is facing down and no longer breeched. Yay!

Non-stress test went very well - he has a strong heartbeat and was doing all he was supposed to be doing (heart rate was supposed to rise after movement, and he did that just fine).

Amniotic fluid check went well too - he’s swimming along happily. The tech tried to take a picture of the baby but his head was facing my spine, so he didn’t flash any good signs to us.

I go in weekly on Thursday mornings now to get a NST and AFV. It will be nice to see him so often, but man, the closer to my due date I get the more and more anxious I am to actually see him in the flesh.

I am giving myself three weeks to get everything taken care of at work. Then, bring it on, babe. Bring it on.

Please cut my fucking legs off right now. I woke up with two painful charley horses in each leg … at 5:30 AM. I have angered someone in the leg department (my left leg spasmed in the back of my calf AND in the front of my shin!) and am paying dearly for those transgressions.

Hobbling to work,
Casey

CREEPY!
***

So, people. When you have a dentist’s appointment, what do you do to prepare beforehand? Do you brush extra diligently, maybe floss a wee bit more than you would have?

It’s the same for me when I go to a gynecological visit where I know I’m dropping trou. Two weeks ago, Dr. K said that he’d do an internal this week, but when I got there, all dignity lost when you have no pants on and are covering your lap with a flimsy paper sheet, he decided to wait until my next visit.

Everything is looking good so far - I haven’t gained any weight from last visit 2 weeks ago (thank god, cuz frankly, the numbers on the scale can just pause now. I haven’t seen numbers this high since 2003 when I was first diagnosed with diabetes!), my blood pressure was fine (131/80), no protein in the pee, and the baby’s heartbeat was doing well.

I brought him a list of pediatricians and he recommended a few from my list, so we’ll be making appointments with them soon. He gave me back my forms for medical leave post-baby, which once again depressed the shit out of me considering how stupid the FMLA is. Again, I seem to be the only person around who is remotely concerned about a breech birth. Dr. K says that at 31 weeks, most babies are breech, and most of them turn around. He said that at the next visit, he would check and see if the baby had turned around, and if not he’d schedule an external version, a process he says is “very unscientific. I’ll try to turn him around from the outside.”

Also, this week I start going in for weekly non-stress tests and amniotic fluid checks, both recommended because of the diabetes and the sporadic bouts of high blood pressure. So all in all, everything looks good. I’m starting to get a little anxious about the alien’s eventual departure. Excited, and nervous as hell. Can’t turn back now!!

***

Last week I sent out an email to friends and included a recent belly picture. My dearest friend Alex wrote back,

“Oh my god, your tits are HUGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guess that boy’s not going to go hungry! HAHAHAHAHHA”

That’s my Alex. I should also say that he doesn’t have the, ah, typical male perspective on breasts, batting for the other team and all.