Mid 31st week! 

I worked too hard this weekend, getting ready for Bill's return tomorrow evening!!!!!!!!! I baked anadama bread, roasted a turkey breast (for my am turkey sandwiches), mopped, cleaned, shoveled dog doo, sewed the diaper stacker (picture tomorrow...it's ALMOST done!), did laundry, reorganized the three totes of baby stuff. Cleaned out two drawer in the small dresser for baby (which will also be a changing table...and there will be four drawers all together later, after I find another spot for the, um, magazines...) Washed the 0-3 month clothes K. gave me.

I knew I was tired, but I didn't realize my back was going to spasm ALL NIGHT LONG. Waking me every fifteen minutes.

So I can't tell if my headache is from lack of sleep, or my Trucker hat (part of the preggo Britney Spears costume!)

Finally, someone other than me felt her move! And it was just perfect that that someone was B. and L.'s young daughter A. I think she's 7 or 8 and she was FASCINATED by the belly.

No more fun for me

No more bagels and cream cheese. No more donut holes. Good thing I didn't mention ice cream or she would have said no to that too. Yes, I got the talking too, but my midwife was very gentle about it. She was good to remind me that it's not for health reasons that I need to stop gaining at this rate (which would mean 15 more pounds by the end) but so I feel better about my body after I give birth. And for that, I love her.

She also burst my bubble about thinking I will work to the end. But she had a good suggestion that I take Wednesdays off to keep my work down to two days at a time rather than five in a row. That way I MIGHT make it to the end without having to go out early. (Thank god December is a three pay check month! I hope no one was expecting a gift for Christmas.)

I am exhausted and I can not wait til Bill gets home so he can make me my midwife prescribed scrambled eggs in the am and he can put the wood in the stove.

When I was in high school I had to get braces. And before the braces, I had this thing called a palatal expander. The expander ran across the roof of my mouth and every monring and evening I cranked a little key it to make it wider and wider, which resulted in the slow and steady movement of the bones in my upper palate and face. It hurt. Like hell.

And apparently I have had a similar device implanted in my pelvic bone. I can FEEL that sucker opening up more. Sweet Jesus, it hurts.

So I'm not sleeping. And on top of the my boobs are leaking and I got stuck on the kitchen floor on Saturday, and had to use the fridge to pull myself up.

Things that Make Pregnant Me Cry #4

That the baby born three MONTHS early to a friend of a friend is going home from the hospital today...nearly a month before his original due date. He has doubled in size in the past month, to FOUR pounds.

Bigger and Better

Every day I seem to get bigger. This week, a coworker of mine who is also a midwife, determined that I was right and that she is head down now, with her feet free to tuck into the ribs. When Bill gets home, i think I'll be taking my wedding ring off (with the help of some crisco, most likely.)

middle of the 30th week! 

Things that Make Pregnant Me Cry #3

Howard Stern. Or more precisely, Stevie Wonder singing on Howard Stern.

Flat tires.

The way my dog moves one of my pillows away from me and then took it's place. For the second night in a row.

Talking to my husband on the phone looooooooong distance.

Dear Little Baby,

I know that we all need to relax sometimes. You know, let loose, kick up our heels. But the thing is, Little Baby, when you kick up your heels, they get lodged in my rib cage, making it feel like I have swallowed knobby chicken bones. It hurts.

Like on Saturday night, at your second cousin Liz's wedding (or is she your first cousin once removed?). Maybe you liked the escargot, and the shrimp, and the virgin mary, and the crab legs, and the delicious italian meats and cheeses. Maybe you were enjoying the voices of your Aunts Lori and Mary Beth, or Uncles Dan and Dan, or it could have been the original Miss Eva, after whom you will be named...But why did you have to stick those knobby things into my ribs before dinner was served? And no amount of rubbing, or stretching, or muttered "cut it outs" would make them move. I even danced. DANCED. IN HEELS. And you know how my sciatica is killing me.

Still why would you not move? I wasn't even sure those were your heels until that moment, when back in the car with your Grams, headed onto the LIE, I felt one of those knobby lumps slide out from under my ribs, bumping along my hand as it did so. And then, the other one. Oh merciful babe, you made me so happy then. Even happier than half a glass of champagne sipped over the course of three hours.

Love,

Mommy.

PS. Don't even get me started about Sunday, when you insisted on rolling around in the opposite direction of the rocking ferry until I THREW UP, all over EVERYTHING. In public, with no Daddy around to help me clean it up.

Braxton and Hicks Conspire to Ruin My Life

I don't know who Braxton is, and I am sure Hicks is related to those awful neighbors we had with the same name in New Hampshire, but I wish they would let my uterus be!

I mean the angle! 

What a difference the angel makes! 

Why I Am Glad I Don't Usually See My Ass

I was feeling triumphant and gorgeous over that fact that I don't have any stretch marks yet. My belly skin looks gorgeous and is soft and radiant.

We don't have a full length mirror at home, so I mostly look at work, or do the best I can with just my eyeballs.

So I never really though to check BEHIND me. Well, I just used the bathroom at work, where there is a full length mirror. I made the mistake of turning and looking as I pulled up my pants. And there they were. Little red, wormy lines. ALL OVER MY ASS.

Thank goodness for Jennifer, the massage therapist. Even though I had to stay on my side and she couldn't give my back the beating it longed for the but hamstring massage REALLY made up for it. It was the first time I have had a massage where the focus did not need to be on my upper back and shoulders.

In other news, I have an appointment with a pediatrician. Which seems silly to me, but it everyone says it's a must to meet the person beforehand. Of course, how a pediatrician treats me may have little impact on how he would treat a baby...

I also have a strong possibility for child care. This is much harder. I know it sounds snobby, but I want a person like me (highly educated, socially aware, blah blah blah). And people like me don't do home day care. Because we need to pay our student loans. But I liked her, and talking with C.Dom made me feel better about teh whole prospect. So when Bill returns, we are going to drop in and visit.

A Treat

As an early 30th b-day present and as a reward to making it to the thrid trimester with relatively little whining...I scheduled a pre-natal massage for Saturday! I can hardly wait...I hope it helps with the extreme run-over-by-a-truck feeling I have each morning. (And yes, that was whining.)

Sometimes, late at night, when I’m sitting in my chair, quilting or reading or watching tv, I can will her to move, this growing daughter inside of me. It will dawn on me that I have not felt her light fluttering, or (more and more) her sharp pokes, in a while. A minute after I think this, there she is, reaffirming her presence for me.

I know the idea that I am willing this to happen is the antithesis of what it means to be a parent. I know that very soon I will no longer be able to imagine that her actions have anything to do with my will, or her father’s will, or anyone’s will but her own. I don’t think of myself as a control freak, but even so, this is the scariest proposition I have ever faced.

Right now she is so much a part of me—we are tied together, literally and figuratively. I know that in a few months she will come into the world as a separate person, but right now, I can’t imagine that it is that separate person who pokes at me when I am trying to sleep. I can’t imagine what she will be like. Her father and I have wondered about the color of her hair, the color of her eyes, if she will tan like he does or burn like me. We have wondered if she will be tall. Will her legs be long or short? But the closest we can get to imagining WHO she will be is her father’s occasional wonder if she will want to hunt and fish. Beyond that we can not imagine who she will be, what her personality will hold, and how much of each of us will she carry with her. We can not begin to imagine it.

I suspect that her becoming a whole separate person will happen not at the moment she bursts forth, but rather slowly and over time. Day by day she’ll be less and less dependent and more and more herself. She’ll get her own words. She’ll learn to speak her mind. She’ll defy us. We will love every minute of it, even as we are hating it. But I wonder, will I always feel that she is a little bit tied to me still?

THREE MONTHS LEFT!

Suddenly I have outgrown two pairs of maternity pants. I refuse to get any more, so Mom, don't even think about it. I informed my co-workers that the day I start coming in in yoga pants is a mere missed load of laundry away. But I was thinking how unfair it is that women who wear more than a 14 pre-pregnancy are out of luck when it comes to maternity clothes. I was a 12-ish before hand and I am into the EXTRA LARGES. Things that were baggy a month ago (Thanks, V!) now fit perfectly. One coworker said that larger women must have to wear WOMEN'S sizes (like 1x, 2x, etc.) but those clothes are made for BIG bodies, not pregnant bodies, which can often be shaped in whole different ways.

Exercise (and something else that made me cry)

This weekend I mowed the lawn and went for a short hike that turned into a long hike due to a poorly marked and inconsistent trail. By last night I was crying while trying to trim my toe nails. But it feels good to exercise, once I overcome the inertia!

Last day of the second trimester! My arms are really chunking up too!