Single Digit Countdown

Nine days left.

Also, this used to be a dress (enjoy some classic American Apparel nipples if you click that link).  Also, my hair is dumb today. Also, the water bottle I'm holding looks like some kind of odd pseudo penis. Never mind the plastic phallus.



On top: normal belly (my vantage point). On bottom: how she hung out for about two hours, pushed all the way to the right.

38 weeks

I don't like my outfit today, so no picture. Plus, it's increasingly difficult to find things to wear that are long enough. The BellaBand (a black stretchy band that you can use to cover up the gaps) is the only thing maintaining a semblance of dignity at this point.

Tomorrow we'll begin the single digit countdown - 9 days until her scheduled arrival. Just over a week.  And yes, the house is still a disaster. And yes, I'm slightly panicky about bringing a baby home to it.  But....dude. We're. Bringing. A. BABY. HOME (fingers crossed knock on wood).  Remembering that, focusing on that, makes all the other stuff melt away.  Mostly.  However, somehow I still can't fathom that this kid is coming out and we're going to have a real live child living with us and that our lives are going to change forever in an instant. I don't know if you can ever truly comprehend that until you've done it.  It just blows my mind.

In other news, I'm officially what I believe they call "heavily pregnant."  I am waddling. I can't help it. She's so low I can't walk straight.  The pressure is intense. Sometimes painful, but always present. Today my feet are pretty swollen, but I'm not sure why. That usually only happens when I've been on my feet a lot, so probably I should go home and put them up and eat some ice cream. Doctor's orders!*  (*Not really.)  Stretch mark update? Still just Judy.  Well, not "just" Judy. She's sprouted arms and legs. But they're very small and very light and very not noticeable, so I forgive her.  Belly button update? Disgusting. Here's my word of warning to anyone not yet pregnant: DON'T PIERCE YOUR BELLY BUTTON. It is NOT pretty at 9 months pregnant. I was smart and got my tattoos in places that wouldn't stretch or get saggy (back of neck, tramp stamp, wrist) but I sure fucked up on that one. If I could I'd go back and tell 21-year-old-me to skip that shit. Plus, I got it in a tent at a music festival. What the hell was I thinking? I'm lucky I didn't get tetanus or gangrene or Ebola.  Kids those days. Tsk tsk.  Cellulite update? Also disgusting. I would trade that in for a million stretch marks.

Still, despite the deformed belly button scar, for the most part this has been a very easy pregnancy, thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster. And still, for the most part, I adore being pregnant. I wish I could somehow capture forever the exact feeling of little hands and feet and knees and elbows and butts (well, one butt) moving across my stomach. It's truly one of the most amazing, wonderful, unbelievable, mind-blowing things I've ever felt and I am seriously going to miss it.  I have video and pictures but I know that I'll forget this incredible feeling soon enough. When I tell Chris that I'll miss it, he just replies, "I guess we'll just have to get you knocked up again soon."  Which right now I'm all for since I'd love three kids pretty close in age. Talk to me again, however, in two months when we're in the midst of the worst of the newborn stage since everyone has warned me that we'll be pretty much completely miserable the first three months, minimum. Then, maybe I'll be going at Chris with scissors to attempt a home vasectomy. But now, three would be great.  

TEN DAYS. TEN. DAYS. OMG.

Showery-things

How cute is the invite from the shower that my friends threw me??

And my associates at work thew me a little mini shower. SO THOUGHTFUL. They all get raises and the day off!

Anti-Nesting

I am going to SCREAM. As I said in an earlier post, Chris's grandma died last week. Somehow, because all the other relatives live out of state and Catholic Services couldn't get in to the apartment to get all the unwanted furniture out before July 11, and they needed everything out by July 1, all of that shit is now living in our garage. Which was already housing all my brother's stuff from when he moved in with us and everything that was in our basement when we got new carpet (of which most of it is going to be sold on Craigslist, a garage sale, or sent to the Goodwill). Have I mentioned that I haven't parked in the garage in months? Because I haven't.

On top of that, Chris decided that we should completely move everything that was in one room to a completely separate room. Male nesting, maybe? I don't know. But whatever it is, it's causing me to seriously lose my shit. We've wanted to turn the basement into an office/family room for a long time by moving our super old hand-me-down couches down there and getting a nice new couch for the living room. Fine. I'm on board with that. I just wanted that done months ago...or since that failed, in a couple months. Instead, our old furniture is downstairs, and upstairs is a hodge podge collection of ugly pieces from his grandma's house. Like random chairs and I honestly don't even know because I haven't been home yet but I know what was at her house. DO NOT WANT. DO NOT WANT UGLY FURNITURE. DO NOT WANT UGLY MISMATCHED OLD PEOPLE FURNITURE. No offense, grandma, but your shit was ugly. I just want a nice living room. And it's now...the complete and total opposite. Chris promises it will only be like that for a month or two before we get a new living room set but A MONTH OR TWO ARE YOU KIDDING? He promises it's not bad and the new stuff is great but again...I know what was there and trust, there was nothing great there.

I don't even want to go home and see the insanity and the ugly and the huge mess. And every other room was put in complete and total disarray because of all this too. Except the nursery, which STILL isn't done but at least has some semblance of order. I might just curl up and live there for the next two months with the baby and just have him call us out when everything else is done.

UPDATE: Ok, it wasn't as bad as I thought. It's still a huge mess and I still have a panic attack looking at it, but his plans are solid and he assures me it will be okay. Breathe. Breathe.

You can't really tell in this pic, but she dropped overnight the other day. It's nice to have her ass out of my ribs.

Watermelon-size, indeed.

She. Is. HUGE.  I still don't think I look that pregnant from the front or the back, other than the fact that I'm missing approximately 32% of my waist. However, I turn to the side, and WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM THERE THAT IS.

Full Freaking Term!!

Okay, child, you can come out ANY TIME NOW.  This is getting a little old. I'm grateful that it's just in the last couple weeks out of the entire 40 that I'm feeling it, but damn. It takes FOREVER to build a kid from scratch.

I actually also have a non-superficial, non-selfish reason for wanting her out. Yesterday my dad was admitted to the hospital and today they've diagnosed it as a pulmonary embolism - a blood clot in the lungs. I know two fathers of friends who passed away from that, so needless to say I'm freaking out.  I want my dad around; I want my daughter to meet her grandpa.  Chris's dad died in 2001, and my dad is the only shot she's got at the granddaughter/grandfather relationship.  Obviously I want him to be around for a long time - he is going to be such an amazing grandpa and knows so many fun tricks and games and just STUFF. Things that only he can teach her. And obviously I want him around to be a father to me as well. But maybe seeing her here and out will help him get better faster?  On the other hand, my mom and family don't need the stress of having two family members in the hospital at once (it'd be convenient if we were at the same place, but sadly we wouldn't be). However, on the THIRD hand (because I'm counting hands on an alien) who knows how long he'll be in the hospital...so we might both be in at the same time regardless, in which case the sooner she comes out and relieves me of this pressure the better.

Needless to say, thoughts and prayers for my papa are greatly appreciated.  This happened on our last day of funeral leave for Chris's grandma.  Please tell me that bad things don't REALLY happen in threes?

Birth and Death

Sadly, Chris's grandmother died last night.  In an odd series of events, the cause went from being a stroke to a brain tumor to not a brain tumor but some other type of mass in the brain to gout (gout??!?!). So in other words, I have no idea what happened and she could have been run over by a rampaging llama for all I know.  It's very sad, but her husband passed away less than a year ago and she was in her late 80's, so not entirely unexpected.  She was a beautiful woman with a sharp sense of humor who loved to knock her husband down a peg (he was still a ladykiller at 90 and knew it), play cards (and beat the piss out of the "old people" at the home), and drink (it was never too early - we'd get there at 10am and she'd offer us a cocktail).  We'll definitely miss her and I'm so sad she missed the baby by literally weeks.

We have to travel 45 minutes for the funeral and surrounding family events, and being 9 months pregnant has certainly put a twist on the usual mourning thoughts, like:

1. What is the protocol if your water breaks in the middle of a funeral?
2. If I went into labor there, would I have time to drive back to my hospital here in town or would I be forced to deliver at a hospital there? 
3. Where can I strategically place myself during the funeral so I can pee at least two or three times without bringing more attention to myself than the smuggling-a-basketball-in-my-dress look will already be attracting?
4. Driving for 45 minutes = ouch, my poor poor vagina and ribs.
5. Maybe Chris can take all bumpy back roads on the way home since that's supposed to help encourage labor and at that point (Monday) I'll be full term.
6. Is it really bad that I'm thinking all this stuff instead of concentrating on, you know, the whole death thing? Is there some evolutionary standard that makes it so you can't think of anything but BABY. BABY. OMG BABY. BABY COMING SOON. MUST THINK OF BABY!? Because everything comes back to this damn baby lately. Ok. Lately? More like for the past 32 weeks. Since I first peed on the stick.
7. Man, there is going to be a LOT of drinking at this family gathering and I won't be able to partake. 
8. OMG, don't forget to refill your Tums stash in your purse otherwise it could get interesting. And embarrasing. And there's no dog there to blame it on.

I'm looking forward to seeing all Chris's family again since I haven't seen them since his grandfather passed away, but I do wish it was happier circumstances. They're a fun bunch in less depressing situations.  I do like picturing his grandma and grandpa together again, since I'm sure John (grandpa) got sick of chasing all the hot young angels in short dresses around (that's what I see at Halloween and I'm pretty sure that's based on biblical truth) and missed Kathie (grandma) a lot. And she probably missed having someone around to roll her eyes at and to share a drink with at 9am (we think grandma was probably pickled).

Rest in peace, grandma Kathie. And thank you for not going on the same day that the baby was born so that I didn't have to wonder the rest of my life if she was actually your reincarnated being! (See: everything goes back to the baby. Sigh.)