Keeping busy

So to keep myself from going insane at home feeling like I’m just sitting around waiting, I’ve come up with a list of projects I can do, presumably, while still pregnant.

I hate waiting. It’s just one of the things I’m really not good at.

And the good thing about making a list of things to do is that by procrastinating on some of the items, I do other things instead… (this strangely is how I’m usually most productive.) Like, oh, I don’t feel like finishing that MPI lesson, I’ll just redesign the church’s Web site instead. And when that becomes a bore and frustration, sweeping and mopping the entire upstairs (not that it’s very big) seems like a pleasant idea.

Here’s the site look so far. I can’t get the navigation to actually work (in html format, this is just one big JPG). It’s being frustrating to me. I’ll get it eventually, though.

So that’s what I’ve been up to today, plus mopping and sweeping, and doing some laundry. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

News update: Still pregnant

I just got a note from a friend asking if I was still preggo because she hadn’t seen a blog update since Monday. I guess I need to blog every day to keep the rumors from flying and people from wondering.

Yep, Duncan is still happily ensconced inside the womb. He’s out of room in there, though. Poor guy can barely move without me protesting about the discomfort in my misshapen belly. I’d like to get some video of him moving in there — it’s pretty wild to see the butt lump on the left sticking out and then the feet on the right as the legs try and stretch. He’s like this big triangle – any time he moves one part, it puts pressure on the other two points (the third point being his head, down in my pelvis).

Today is my last day of work before I go on vacation/maternity leave (depending on when the actual birth happens – if it’s next week sometime, I’ll technically be on “vacation” for a few days).

My horoscope today said:
You’ve always thought of your coworkers as part of your extended family, and you’ve just hoped that they felt the same. Well, lucky you. You’re about to be shown just how right you are.

They did take me out for coffee this morning, so I guess that counts.

OK, back to wrapping things up at the office.

Answers to the top 10 questions you didn’t realize you were asking

And asking. Over and over again. It’s completely normal and natural, I know. There are certain questions that people ask at certain times in your life (When’s the wedding date? How’s married life treating you? etc.) because that’s just what people do.

In case you’ve been tempted lately, here are the answers to the questions you want to ask me, or have been asking me repeatedly.

1. July 10
2. Yes, it’s a boy
3. Duncan
4. Yes, we’re excited
5. Yes, I’m ready
6. Right, the heat sucks, but I don’t have cankles
7. I’m just uncomfortable. It’s been pretty easy so far
8. It’s OK, I just get up a lot to pee
9. 8 to 8 1/2 pounds, they tell me
10. Not too much room to do that anymore, more squirming and alien belly movements, but he does his best

And, yes, I’m getting a little tired and cranky. Six more days until the mythical due date.

Ten…nine…eight…seven

I am now officially on pregnancy watch, having received my first phone call to see if I’ve had a baby yet. Nope, still pregnant. Currently pregnant and tired and uncomfortable and trying to be positive and patient about the whole thing.

Here’s the latest in the henna belly. We did this Friday night. Well, again, Kevin did this and I just lay there and watched a movie. Can’t even remember what movie it was…lots of people died, though. Probably not a good movie to watch while willing a little one to decide to come into the world.

The Countdown Commences

13 days to go…

Not that I haven’t been counting down since the moment I found out I was pregnant, sometime last November. November 2 or 3, I think it was. At least there was something to celebrate after the elections.

I’m trying not to let myself get impatient. I’m still almost 2 weeks before my due date. So what if I thought I’d be 2 weeks early. It’s not like I had any promises. And it’s OK that he’s cooking a bit longer. Honestly, if he’s born in the next fiscal year (which starts July 1) it’d be more convenient for both me and Kevin with vacation time, maternity leave, etc. But that means I have to wait until Friday.

Oh, right, I was going to not get impatient…

I tell Duncan every day (sometimes more than once) that I love him and will wait for him to be ready. That he’ll be born on his birthday. Whenever that is. But hopefully before July 15.

My midwife tells me that I have a 90% chance of giving birth between July 6 and 14. Either way, that’s only 9-17 days away. In less than 3 weeks, I’ll probably have a baby — outside of my body. I clearly have one on the inside right now.

Oh, that reminds me. I wanted to post this pic of some henna belly painting we did this weekend. Well, Kevin did it all. I just sat there and watched a movie.

The figure on the right is Isis. The one on the left is….some other Egyptian god. Phat. Something like that. The symbols at the top spell “Gustina” (we decided that his whole name was too long to paint the entire thing in hieroglyphs) and the stuff in the middle means something cool that Kevin also has a tattoo of. I can’t remember the exact translation, but whenever I hear it, it makes me think of Paul Young’s, Wherever I Lay My Hat, That’s My Home.

The painting continued after this picture was taken, so I now have henna tattoos on my thighs which say, I Love Nurses, Welcome Duncan, and Exit –> (with the arrow pointing down the leg…as one might imagine)

I hope that’s not entirely too much of a shot of my belly and underwear, but I thought it was cool. If I cropped it more, then you’d lose some of that nice belly roundness going on there. Please excuse any potential indecency. I have a feeling any sense of body privacy I still have is going to disappear once I’m squatting down in a determined attempt to push this gorgeous kid out of me.

Further updates as events (or lack of them) warrant.

Giving up control

A question I get asked a lot these days is “how long are your working ’til?” This usually comes right after the expression of surprise that I’m still there at all. Either because I guess they wouldn’t still be working or because they think I’m ready to pop at any literal minute.

It’s a fair question. And one that I haven’t had the answer to. But after talking with my midwife and HR this week, I have made a decision – no later than July 6. (I’m due July 10, which is a Sunday, the 6th is the Wednesday before.) Presuming Duncan doesn’t make his appearance earlier than that.

Which brings me to another thought I’ve been ruminating on lately – not being in control. Not that I have been in control of my body and how it’s changed throughout the last 9 months. But now I’m really, really not at the helm.

I have no idea of when I’m going to give birth. Sure, I have inklings — maybe even this weekend, definitely before July 10 (which makes my last day of work a moot point) — but it’s not like I have any say in it. It’s all about my body and the little guy working together to decide when he’s going to join us on the outside.

I think that’s OK, though.

When I first got this date of June 26 in my head as his probable date of birth, I couldn’t wait for it to get here. I was all gung ho about him being born 2 weeks early and insistent to everyone I talked to who poo-pooed the idea that a first time mum could have her baby early (Why do people like to tell me I’ll be 2 weeks late? Do they get pleasure out of that?) that it was possible. But now that it’s June 24, I feel like I could stand to wait another week or so. Maybe even two. Maybe even July 14 would be a fine day to be born. In any event, within 3 weeks from now I’ll have a baby in my arms.

My other control issue — and perhaps the reason behind my sudden OK-ness with continuing to be pregnant — is that once the whole labor thing starts, I have no ability to either keep it going or make it stop. That’s up to my body to know what it’s doing. I do factor in there — how I deal with it, how I put my hypnobabies instruction into practice, how well I’m able to relax and focus and just ride the waves. But it’s just a ride I’m on that I have to go with.

A rollercoaster where, anytime now, the jostling crowd might push me on board, safety bar pinning in me in my seat as we head upwards for some breakneck dips and twirls. Going into the unknown, eyes wide open. I’ve never done this before.

Basking in the light of the moon

I woke up at 3:30 a.m. this morning. There was a spotlight shining in my face, as if someone outside my bedroom window had a police search beacon trained on me. It winked through the tree branches, splashing me in the eyes with its beam.

Confused, a little thirsty and probably needing to pee yet again, I reached for my glasses and put them on to get a clearer look at what was happening. It was the moon. A brilliant, bright full moon, penetrating the thick leaves (something our satellite dish cannot do) and leaving a white strip of light on my sheets.

I stood at the window, directly in the path of the light, yet it seemed not to touch me. Only when I lay back down on the bed, exposing my bare, fertile belly, were the rays there again. So I let Duncan bask and bathe in the moonlight, casting shadows over my curves, as I gave thanks to Spirit for the life inside me.

I always like to celebrate the solstice. Full moons, too. But lately I’m asleep before it’s completely dark and I wasn’t really up for a solstice celebration Tuesday night. But it seems the moon found me.

They were peaceful moments with the moon, silent and sacred as Mr. Squirmy moved around, as if he could sense the energy seeping in through my skin. And I felt as if I was being restored, empowered, strengthened for the journey ahead.

And then that Quizno’s commercial song played in my head, “We love the moon, it is so very high…” and I drifted off to sleep.

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I watched the sunrise this morning. Through my office window.

Kev’s car malfunctioned yesterday on his way home from work, so I had the experience of getting to work at 5 a.m. this morning (when his shift starts). Rather than drive back home and go back to sleep for an hour or two I just came in myself. Amazingly I feel OK so far. Previous attempts at getting and staying up before 6 a.m. have left me feeling physically sick. Of course, it isn’t quite 7 a.m. yet.

Little D is currently readjusting himself (rearranging the furniture), somehow managing to simultaneously push against my bladder, right hip/pelvis and my ribs. He must be running out of room. No new pics – I keep forgetting to take them. I really do.

But here’s one from our baby shower at church in May. I was 31 weeks preggo then.

Something like that. (I’m 36 weeks now.)

There’s a reason I haven’t been putting up shots of my face. I may have that glow, but…wow… who is that fat-faced lady? And where did those massive boobs come from (you might not be able to get the full impact on this shot)? I bought nursing bras the other day…let’s just say I didn’t know they MADE that cup size before.

Preggo update – all is well

I was going to blog last week about having Preggo Brain Drain. I did a couple of goofy things in one day — like forgetting to take the invitation card to the hospital’s maternity wing ribbon cutting that told me where to part and showing up to my book club meeting at the wrong book store.

I guess I forgot. Proof of the Preggo Brain Drain. Ha.

In other news, little D continues to grow bigger, is doing perfectly fine and well and healthy and is in a good position for sliding out of his mother’s body when the time comes. Mum (that’s me) is doing pretty well too, considering the unseasonably hot weather we’re having. Ninety-degree days in June — and several in a row at that — is crazy for Rochester. And it’s doing crazy things to my hands and feet.

Fortunately, we have 1 window a/c unit that goes in my bedroom (and is a fondly remembered wedding gift) so at least I can sleep without sweating gallons of fluid into the sheets. (lovely image, that)

And for anyone else that’s experience pregnancy-induced swollen feet, I offer this. Frozen socks. It sounds crazy, I know, but they feel sooooooo good. Dampen some socks, stick them in the freezer, then, when cold but not completely frozen, pull them on your swollen, tired, hurting feet. Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh. So the floor gets a little wet as they thaw out. Who cares.

My mum thinks I should design and patent some freezable socks so I can make my fortune. Sounds like an interesting idea. I’ll get on it…right after my nap….

Feeling large but still a cutie – at least I don’t look pregnant from the back

That’s the thing I hold onto. It doesn’t matter at this point that all my shirts have stains on the belly from dropping food and drink onto them.

(note to self: research how to remove oil-based stains from cotton clothing today)

It doesn’t matter that my heels badly need a manicure to be presentable in sandals. Or that my face is getting fat, my hair won’t quite behave as I’d like it to (or maybe it just looks odd due to the new proportions of my face). It doesn’t matter that there is actually something on my body (my growing belly) that is finally bigger in circumference than my boobs.

I don’t look pregnant from the back.

Photos (you can tell which is which) at 34 weeks, 2 days: