5 weeks to go...

Hey look!  I found a shirt that covers my belly!  Also, nursery no where near finished, as evidenced by lack of dresser/changing table and air mattress on the floor.  What you can't see is the stack of baby items in the corner and the empty boxes from baby gear in front of this mirror.  What you can see is additional baby stuff stashed under the desk that still needs a home.  Oh, and my enormous belly.  Yowzas.  

Damn you, Learning Channel

Continuing with the all-baby-all-the-time programming, let me just say that it's been difficult adjusting to staying at home by myself.  I've been able to keep mostly busy, cleaning, and running errands, and puttering around finding little things that need to be done.  I've made dinner every night and currently have chicken simmering on the stove to make enchiladas later which: yum.  

However, there has been waaay too much daytime television built into my day as a result of just generally being in the vicinity of the TV.  Which means about four too many episodes of A Baby Story each day.

The one thing that I've learned from all these completely-true-to-life-and-not-dramatized-at-all 'documentaries' is that I am happier and happier with my decision to have Joe and only Joe with me in the delivery room.  On one episode yesterday the woman had both her mother and mother-in-law in the room.  Each was stroking her face and grabbing her arms and generally draping themselves over her as the husband and father-to-be stood awkwardly off to the side of the room looking useless and too scared to ask what he should be doing.  

Now, I love my mother-in-law, but I haven't even asked my own mother to be in the hospital with me; there is no way I would want Joe's mom in there.  First and foremost, (geographical impossibilities notwithstanding) I just think it's going to be such a personal moment for us as we welcome our first child into the world.  Then of course I just think I would feel too reserved in front of Joe's mom (or even mine) to do what I need to be doing.  Also, I can see my mother reminding me for years to come of things that I will say while I'm in labor and quite frankly I don't need any part of that.  If Joe was stroking my face I would have no problem telling him to get the F off of me; if one of our mom's were there I might be a bit more restrained in my loving words to him.

Obviously, as a military wife I need to reserve the right to change my mind about having my mother in the room if at some point I find myself in labor with Joe out to sea or something, but at this point I watch these shows thinking these people must be nuts to invite cousins and sisters and in-laws and whoever else all in the room with them.  My mom tells me that once you're ready to push you don't care who's in the room: you just want the baby out.  At this point I'm not quite ready to push, so I will take this opportunity to decide who will get to see that lovely, personal, miraculous moment and who can hear about it after the fact via phone call.  (or blog post)

Now if you'll excuse me this woman just asked her doctor to check her cervix while her own father was in the room, so I need to go stare at the TV and judge people.

Status: Normal

First of all, thanks for all your sweet comments on that last post.  I realize I shouldn't have left that up there so long without any kind of update, but I'm fine, baby seems fine, and Joe is still issuing rest orders every time he leaves the house.  So I'd say things are back to normal.

So new topic.  My mom stayed home with my brother and me when we were little.  She went back to school when I was in third grade, I think, and became a dental hygienist.  She started back at work the year I started 7th grade, so was essentially home with us until I was in middle school.  I've always assumed I would be a stay at home mom, because that's what moms do.  This was not a popular view in college.  I got a lot of grief from other girls at school when I would say that eventually I wanted to have kids and stay home with them.  I'm talking comments like "then why even bother to go to college? What a waste."  I thought the whole point of the feminist movement was women's choice, but clearly that choice didn't apply at my school unless your choice was to get a degree and start some high-powered career.

I graduated from school, went to graduate school (which had never been in my plans) worked in the federal government for almost five years, got married, and here I am: pregnant, done working, and looking forward to being home with my baby.  The problem is that somewhere along the way I started feeling like I need to justify this choice to people who ask.  Friends, coworkers, even family have asked what I plan to do after I have the baby.  Instead of saying "stay at home," which, to me, is still the obvious answer (for me) I get all flustered and mutter something about "you know, I'll be home, what with Joe being in the military and being gone a lot, we figured one of us should stay home ramble stutter blah blah blah."  Which is a complete copout, and I feel like I'm essentially blaming Joe's career for something that both us had decided before we got married.  I *want* to stay home, I'm looking forward to staying home, and it was never considered that I would be going back to work.  Yet I realized the other day when my sister-in-law asked how long I would be home (implied: before finding a new job) and I went into my lame rambling response that there is no reason I need to justify this decision to anyone and yet I keep feeling as though I should be.

So what do you think?  Whether you stay home or work out of the home, or plan to do one or the other, do you have problems explaining your reasoning to people?  Do you feel like it even requires an explanation?  Because suddenly I do, and I can't figure out why.

Drama Queen

Yesterday I fell in the shower.  One minute I was standing there fretting about a new stretch mark and the next I was falling through the shower curtain and banging my stomach against the side of the tub before finally catching myself on my hands on the bathroom floor.  My immediate reaction was one of 'get it together.'  I turned off the water, grabbed a towel and then started getting dressed.  All the while I kept thinking to myself, "shouldn't I be panicking?" but was also thinking "deodorant, find the numbers from the doctor, chug some water, should I do a kick count?, where is my phone, will probably need to cancel going to Baltimore today."  Once I was dressed and searching for the phone numbers I just lost it and broke down crying hysterically.  How was I so stupid?  What if something happened and I got all this way, almost 8 months, and lost the baby?  How would Joe ever look at me the same, since this was all my fault?

I managed to pull myself together enough to call the triage line where they told me to hang up and call Labor and Delivery.  I lost it again.  I took deep breaths while the phone rang twice and then with a shaky voice told them that I was almost 34 weeks pregnant and had fallen in the shower that morning.  The nurse immediately asked if I had hit my stomach and I sobbed "yes" and then choked through answering my name and that yes, I had someone to drive me in while she instructed me to come straight to L&D.  I tried to compose myself yet again, and then walked into the living room and tearfully announced to Joe's sister that I had fallen and needed her to drive me to the hospital.  

On the drive over we chatted a little bit and I realized that my knee hurt and that I had fallen first onto my knee and then onto my hands and stomach so at least that broke the fall a bit.  I really just felt like I was in shock.

The doors to Labor & Delivery were plastered with signs that read "Congratulations!" and I snickered to myself that this wasn't exactly a congratulatory moment.  The nurses were waiting for me, in fact as far as we could tell there was only one other woman there with her husband.  They had me leave a urine sample and assure them that I had no blood or leaking, then took me to a room and hooked me up to fetal monitors.  Evidently I was having some small contractions, but I never noticed them.  Once I heard the heartbeat and felt the baby kick at the monitor I felt instantly better.

Christine kept trying to get a hold of Joe (I decided not to call him until we got to the hospital since he was all the way downtown and would have completely panicked, especially if I had been talking) while the nurse busied herself making me comfortable and going over some questions with me.  A few minutes later the midwife came in and said that the heartbeat and movement was reassuring, but they were going to do an ultrasound to check the placenta and were a bit concerned that if the contractions continued they would have to do an internal to see if I was dilating.  The contractions eventually eased, Joe's coworker drove him to the hospital in record time, and the OB on call did an ultrasound that showed a head-down baby with an attached placenta and plenty of amniotic fluid.  I stayed hooked to the monitors for about three hours before they released me with instructions to call if I noticed any significant contractions or noticed any fluid, bleeding, or decreased movement.  Oh, and no intercourse for a few days.  Hi, Joe's sister!  Glad you came to the hospital with us, aren't you?

I came home and took a nap and got plenty of hugs from Joe, who insisted on buying a non-slip bath mat on the way home from the hospital.  I'm sore in about twenty places today, both from the fall and the subsequent panic, I'm sure.  But I'm ok, and the baby is ok, and there are just 6 weeks and one day until my due date so hopefully everyone stays just fine until then.

When I left L&D yesterday the nurse cheerfully said "see you soon!"  To which I silently responded: Holy.  Shit.

Good news!

One of my friends from high school got engaged over the weekend!  I'm so excited for her.  There are six of us that were good friends all through high school and we've all kept in touch for the (gulp) 10 years since we graduated.  I don't exactly remember how, but at some point in high school we started calling ourselves the Compatibles.  Each of us had a name (and don't worry, we only referred to each other this way, it's not like we wandered around high school with badges on or anything): the Funny one, the Smart one (that's me, what?  I was valedictorian: NERD), the Cute one, the Spunky one, the Slutty one, and, the recently engaged Pretty one.  Please also note that this was circa 1996, but I swear we came up with this before the Spice Girls.

I'm the most recent one to get married, and my second anniversary is rapidly approaching in May so it was about time someone else gave us a wedding to look forward to.  The six of us don't see each other very often; in fact the last time we were all in the same place at the same time was my wedding, and before that it had been at least three years.  Three of the girls still live in Michigan, one is in Ohio, and the newly engaged lady is in Chicago.  I'm the lone duck on the east coast, but I make a point to see the girls whenever I get home to visit my parents.  

Our relationships have changed throughout the years, as these sorts of friendships do.  Some of us grow closer together as our lives change, and others drift a bit further apart, but we all send around email updates every few weeks or once a month or so, so for the most part we all know what's going on in everyone else's lives.  I remember my senior year in high school telling one of my mom's friends that these girls and I would always be friends and hearing my mom remark that all friends in high school say that but that no one actually keeps in touch.  We went off to different colleges, and surely we would all find new friends and new lives and fall out of touch.  Here we are ten years later and I still hear my mom telling people whenever she mentions one of the Compatibles how she's so surprised we're all still friends: that never happens!

It's true that they're the only people from high school I still talk to, facebook be damned.  And even though I don't see any of them very often or even for a year or two at a time, I'm still glad that we've been able to make our friendships work.  We've been through three weddings, a divorce, several periods of girls not talking to each other and now we're expecting a baby and planning another wedding. 

The Pretty one is planning her wedding for November, at which point I'll have an 8 month old (can you imagine!) and more than likely it will be the first time some of the girls will meet my darling offspring.  We have so much to look forward to this year, and in the decades to come.

It dawns on me that I could have easily been dubbed "the short one."  Sheesh, could somebody find me some heels or something?

Mid-week Doldrums

My first thought when my alarm went off yesterday was "ugh.  well, at least it's Friday."  My second thought was "crap, it's only Wednesday."  

It wasn't until halfway into work that I figured out that it was, indeed, only Tuesday.

Also, I managed to get all the way out the door and partway to the car before I realized that I was still wearing my slippers.

Here's hoping I'm a bit more together today.

Get off my lawn

So Friday night I did indeed make it through the end of the hockey game.  In fact, I had a great time and didn't get home until after 11:30, which is insane for this pregnant lady.  

Finding ourselves in Chinatown (or what's left of it) before the game we stopped at a Chinese place for a quick dinner before watching the Capitals lose to Columbus.  Sigh.  They've been playing so well and then this week lost two in a row.  

We were just going to head home but couldn't resist stopping for dessert and I was shocked (shocked!) at the amount of people out at a restaurant at 10pm.  Am I that out of it that I don't even realize people go out on a Friday anymore?  I don't even have a kid yet and I'm already old and lame.  

The rest of the weekend has been relaxing and boring.  Grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking.  Man, do I live on the edge.  I went to the library yesterday but only checked out books pertaining to labor and how to live through it, so if anyone has any suggestions for some good fiction reading I would love to hear them.  Lay it on me, ladies.

(Edited to add: Argh!  Shelly, why didn't I read your comment on my last post before Friday night??  Ha!)

C-A-P-S Caps Caps Caps

Joe bought me tickets to a bunch of Capitals games for Christmas and we saw them play the Flyers last night.  Well, we saw the first two periods before we left to come home be I am pregnant and therefore totally *lame.*  As it was, we got home just after 9 and then watched the rest of the game on tv.  You know, the rest of the game that went into overtime and then into a shootout which we won by one goal and Theodore was completely amazing and the whole place was going crazy and there we were sitting on the couch congratulating ourself that we left early or we never would have gotten home before 11.  

Sigh.

I have tickets to the game on Friday and am going with a friend, so I am just telling myself ahead of time that it's going to be a late night so man up, self, because we're staying for the whole freaking game this time, god.  

Zzzz

People like to tell mothers-to-be to stock up on sleep while they still can.  I question the merit of this advice, and yet I seem to be taking it to heart.  Every day that I was home from work over the holidays I napped and thoroughly enjoyed it.  I got home at 3:30 New Year's Eve and promptly went to bed until 6.  You might think this was planned so I could stay up til midnight, but no, I was in bed by 11:30 after our movie ended.  

This weekend I've been an especially proficient sleeper.  I napped from 4-6 last night, then went to bed around 11 and only just woke up.  Uh, it's 10am.  The problem with all this sleep is that it is absolutely killing my back.  Actually I'm not sure if the back ache is a result of the sleep or a cause of it, but either way the past few days my spine feels as if someone has wrenched it 3 inches out of alignment and the left side of my body is paying the price.  My hip aches, my stomach muscles (such as they are) are pulling with the weight of this baby and my enormous boobs, and I can't find a comfortable position to sit in for more than 10 minutes or so, after which I must gruntingly heave myself into a new position and then spent the next few minutes panting from the effort.  

I wouldn't say I'm ready to be done with this pregnancy, but let's just say I had a dream the other night that I was told I was starting to dilate and should be having the baby anytime now.  Last night I had a dream that I gave birth to a baby girl...and then another one shortly after.  People, if I find out that I'm having twins the day I give birth I just...well, I don't even know.  That apparently happened to a friend of my mom's, as in the doctor asked the dad how many cribs they had at home, because if the answer was one he should probably go shopping.  And this was less than 30 years ago!  I know, I know, medical advancements and all but still!  Can you even imagine?

In other all-pregnant-thoughts-all-the-time news I'm switching to the military hospital from my civilian doctor and my first appointment is on Tuesday so we'll see how that goes.  I'll be meeting with a midwife, and I'm curious to see how she differs from the doctor I've been seeing (and like).  The midwives at the hospital are all certified nurse midwives and work closely with obstetricians, and if at any point I should become high-risk I am automatically assigned to an OB only, so don't think I'm going all granola and setting up a birthing tub in my living room or anything.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, just that I'm kind of a wuss about the whole pain thing and also I don't feel like having my rug shampooed.  (that sounds kind of wrong)  Although to be fair, any sort of tub larger than the crappy one I currently own would be a delight at this point.  We went to pick up some of Joe's scuba gear yesterday and I found myself longing to be afloat just so the weight would be taken off of my joints for awhile.  Never mind that that would require donning a bathing suit which: cannot fathom.  Helllllo cellulite!  But the idea of floating along semi-weightless is just dreamy.  And I think I've been having enough time to dream lately.

So what do you think: is it a good idea to sleep as much as I can now, with the thought of many a sleepless night looming so close in the future, or am I just setting myself up for a worse transition to sleeplessness with all my liberal nap-taking?  Because let's just say that I'm done working in a few weeks and haven't figured out exactly how to fill my days before the baby arrives.  I'm thinking naps will feature prominently.

Happy New Year!

I've just wasted 20 min of 2009 trying to get blogger to upload a photo of my massively pregnant self.  Perhaps everyone else has resolved to post more often and thus the uncooperative site?

No matter, there will plenty more pictures where that came from.  In the meantime, happy new year to you and yours!