I conned Tara in to taking some fat girl pictures of me on Sunday because I have one set of belly pictures from this round and it was from 22 weeks. It is virtually impossible to get the images you want using a tripod and remote control with a toddler trying to tip it over. I called in the reinforcements. She did a great job, huh? These were taken at 32.5 weeks. Here is me at 31 weeks and 34 weeks with Renee. This time? BIGGER.
Well, except for this FREAKY one that you can't really blame on Tara because my belly? It's not all that natural and cute. You see that gigantic head poking out of the top side of my belly? Yeah well, my children only like to live in there butt-down. And don't try to get them to flip because they are she is temperamental and will come out four weeks early just to spite you. Heart rate is holding steady at 150.
I have good days and bad days. Days when I feel motivated enough to cover cardboard boxes in cute fabric for Renee's room or to cook enough lasagna to feed a small army and days when I hit the couch 10 seconds after the little monster goes to sleep and promptly start sobbing. These last three months of pregnancy aren't for the weak at heart.
On the days that I feel good, I'm optimistic and happy. Grateful to be going through pregnancy again, grateful for how strong and big the baby is getting, grateful that all of us are healthy and happy. I'm looking forward to becoming a family of four and I am just dying to see if this baby is anything like its big sister. I'm dying to know finally, once and for all, if she has a sister or a brother. I'm excited to go through all of it again, this time with a [hopefully] more down-to-earth perspective.
The irrefutable force that caused me to gain large amounts weight in the first two trimesters finally tapered off and I really haven’t gained much weight in the last month. I’m up just under 30 pounds, which seems respectable. Although I am getting dangerously close to weighing as much as my husband and let’s just say I’m going to try to avoid that if at all possible. Or he’s going to have to start eating more Milky Ways. IT’S ONLY FAIR.
The one pregnancy torture I didn’t have with Renee but has plaguing me this time is my feet swelling up after a day of work. The weekends are fine but man, I get home from work and I can hardly bend my toes. My doctor told me to try out compression stockings and by some act of God, my insurance actually covered the NINETY-FIVE DOLLAR expenditure. I have confidence that they might help, IF ONLY I COULD BEND OVER FAR ENOUGH TO GET THEM ON MY FEET.
I also invested in a maternity belt and could punch myself in my own face for not buying one sooner. It has made me feel slightly human again. If you are pregnant and have back pain, GO BUY A MATERNITY BELT. Right now. Don't even ask how much it costs, just BUT IT.
Nesting is in full force. I just have two pillow covers, two blankets and some curtains to pin and sew and baby clothes to wash and fold and organize and a couple of things to get for the walls. I need to get the oil changed in the cars and pack my hospital bag. I REALLY NEED TO PACK HOSPITAL BAG. CAN NOT SLEEP UNTIL HOSPITAL BAG IS PACKED. Ski is doing his own version of nesting which basically involves FREAKING OUT about money.
I've had some revelations in the last month that I have been waiting for and was concerned would never come. I woke up one day and decided that I don't care how or when this baby gets here as long and s/he gets here and is safe and healthy.
If I have to toss and turn and sit on the side of the bed trying to wake up my tingling hands for forty-nine more consecutive nights, I'll try to do it without complaining. Too much.
If I never know what it feels like to kiss the hands and forehead and feet of a baby still damp from amniotic fluid, I'll accept my body and thank it for managing to give me two healthy children.
If I never get to watch one of my children get their first bath or cry their first cries, I will remember that missing those things is so very insignificant compared with missing out on ever becoming a mother.
If I have to send Renee to daycare for an extra day or two because I can't physically lift her out of her crib, I'm going to tell myself that she is having fun with her friends and I'll figure out a way to make her feel extra special and loved on those days when she gets home.
If this baby shows up early and can't figure out how to breastfeed and it seems like a better idea for me to quit than to freak out about it, I'll remind myself that it was hard at first with Renee too and I can't even fathom the possibility now of never having that nursing time with her. And if that doesn't work, I'll tell my perfectionist tendencies to SHUT THE HELL UP and I'll quit. And I'll try to keep the guilt to a minimum.
If I end up with another bout of Post Partum Depression or the Baby Blues or whatever hormonal force that was that had me crying for months on end, I will look into the eyes of my children, tell them that I love them with every fiber of my being and I will remind myself that the sun will shine again. If it doesn't shine, I'll ask for help. And I won't be ashamed for not being stronger.
I accept that I have very little control over the situation.
The only thing that I can [try to] control is my perspective and I AM GOING TO enjoy the birth of this baby by whichever means it comes and I AM GOING TO enjoy the three months I get at home afterwards spending time with my children. I AM GOING TO enjoy the hospital rest and the crappy food and the sleepless nights and the raging hormones as much as is humanly possible and I AM GOING TO remind myself at every turn that someday, many years from now, I will look back on these days as the best days of my life.
I feel content and confident and sure of myself for the first time in eons and quite possibly for the first time ever. It feels good.
I think this all means that I'm ready for the baby to be born where I can be thrown for a loop by everything I didn't see coming and spend the next six months in a sleep-deprived, stressed out, tears-streaming-down-face stupor. And you know what I have to say to that? BRING IT.