Holy Shit, I'm 30 weeks Pregnant.


Time is flying by (and we still haven’t painted the nursery.)   The last week has seen some major growth from the beast in my belly.   She’s able to push my stomach in all directions, and when Scott and I were in the car the other day, I’m pretty sure she gave me a swift kick to the diaphragm, because my voice got involuntarily super loud.   I’m convinced that no women ever leave the house past this point in their pregnancy, because the general consensus of strangers on the street seems to be that either I’m about to pop and my water is going to break all over their floor, or I’m carrying triplets.   In order to maintain what little self-esteem I have left, I’m attributing this to the fact that they have no idea what a real live 40 weeker actually looks like.    On the upside, I seem to have regained some of my brain capacity and drive to function, but ef, am I getting tired.

Also…the reality that at some point this kid is going to have to come out is finally setting in.   Even though I had front row seats when Marissa delivered Eva (and what a show it was!) I still feel paralyzed with fear when I think about the fact that that is going to happen to me.   My brave Sis had a very short labor (about 2.5 hours) and went straight into transition, delivering Miss Eves au natural without any interventions what-so-ever, and if I can handle it, I’d like to do the same.    Then again, when I had a colposcopy last year (if you don’t know what that is, I’ll spare you the details) I vomited, nearly shat myself, passed out, and had to call Sara to come pick me up so I could sleep off the cramping and nausea at her house for four hours before I was able to right myself and drive home.    Not sure what that says about my tolerance for labor pains, but something tells me it doesn’t bode well.     Still…if I end up being half the birthing machine my sister is (Eva was fast, but Paloma was record breaking, giving Marissa only 45 minutes to get to the hospital between the first contraction and final push) then it’s not going to matter how nauseous I am, this girl is coming out drug-free whether I like it or not, and our biggest concern will be making it from the Valley to Beverly Hills before she starts crowning.   Needless to say, we’ve started to look into some birthing and pain management classes so I can mentally prepare myself for the big event.

In Daddy news, Scott has thrown himself full-force into getting the room ready for his little girl.   Now that his workshop is fully operational, he’s making some strides on the DIYs, and last night we decided to throw another project on the pile – he’s going to hack a Malm dresser into a matching changer for the crib project (which is really looking good, if I do say so myself…which I will, because other than bringing him the occasional beer and acting as a cheerleader between marathon writing sessions, I haven’t done crap to contribute to it.)

Here’s the weekly update:

A Cabbage: Where the Babe falls on the vegetable scale.

Head of Cabbage: where the Babe currently falls on the vegetable scale.

How far along? 30 weeks, baby.
Total weight gain/loss: I should just take this question off.
Stretch marks? ::knock wood:: Nope.
Sleep: Only with my Snoogle
Best moment this week: Eva cuddling with her cousin.
Movement: Non stop.   It’s crazy.
Food cravings: Bacon…weirdly.
Gender: Girl.
Labor Signs: Nope.
Belly Button in or out? Still in!
What I miss: Not sweating like a pig all day.
What I am looking forward to: …not sweating like a pig all day.
Weekly Wisdom: While I hated working out pre-pregnancy, my body seems to crave it now.
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Feed Me Seymour