I had my 34 week appointment today. I finally asked the doctor what the heart rate was because it's been driving me crazy not knowing. She said, "It's in the 130s" and then it kicked and she said "Now it's in the 140s." I don't know what that means but whatever. I have gained 27 pounds and am measuring on track. My blood pressure was higher than it has been but not high enough to be concerned so they are going to keep an eye on it. I made the mistake of asking how the baby is positioned and she got out the ultrasound machine and it is breech. So the brat has 3 weeks to figure out how to get head down. OR ELSE. Mommy will not be a happy mommy if not because mommy does not want to have a c-section. I guess I should be thankful that if I have to have one, I can know it going in and not have to go through the whole labor thing, push for 3 hours and then have the c-section anyways (this happened to both my sister-in-law and a girl I used to work with at the circus).
I think the persistent, every-five-minute-comments about my size are my least favorite part about being pregnant. Some people take the "you're not big at all, are you sure everything is OK?" approach and others take the "wow your belly is really big - at least you can't tell by looking at your face" approach. Did I comment to other people about how big or not big they were when they were in their last six weeks? I hope not. And if I did, I'm TRULY sorry. The next time I see an overly pregnant woman I'm going to make sure to ask her what she is having for dinner all the while completely ignoring the basketball protruding off of the front of her abdomen. Poor me, I know. I can't wait until they start ignoring me and obsessing about how cute the baby is. Because we all know s/he is cute. Overly cute. The cutest baby to ever be created by mankind. I know this because after all of this work, it BETTER be.
Now that I'm done with the complaining, I'll say that I am thankfully feeling pretty good. When I overdo it, I pay for it but I guess I should expect that. If I follow my routine of work, exercise, make dinner, read/play with pictures/watch TV, I manage to go to bed and wake up feeling pretty good. The baby's kicks are intense sometimes but I try to enjoy them because I know I will miss them once s/he is born. I spend a lot of time in the middle of the night wondering what the baby looks like and smells like and if s/he will be high-strung like me or ultra-laid back like Ski. Or hopefully somewhere in the middle. I try to imagine my doctor saying "It's a girl" or "It's a boy" and looking at his/her face for the first time. Or seeing Ski holding our baby for the first time after I've carried it around by myself for nine (ten) months. I can't really comprehend what that will feel like but I get more and more ready for it every day.
I think we're close (enough) to ready as far as baby gear goes that we will need in the first few months. I am not physically capable of buying anything else green or yellow or white. I ordered a stroller today and that was the last big thing on my list. We have a lot of miscellaneous things to do (clean, cook, figure out benefits, write birth plans and call lists) but are planning on hibernating in our newly air-conditioned house (i.e., the "meat locker") for the month of July and I'm hopeful we'll be able to get it all done and manage to be rested and ready to tackle this new adventure when s/he decides to make his/her grand appearance. Or the against-my-will c-section happens. It must be the hormones but putting in to words the things that have been going through my head lately makes me want to sit around and cry. Let's hope for Ski's sake it passes.
