You know that episode of Saved by the Bell when the girls start a girl group called the Hot Sundaes, and Jessie gets addicted to caffeine pills so Zack has to talk her down while she maniacally screeches the opening bars to “I’m so excited!” but then in a shocking turn of self discovery she replaces the 3rd repetition with “I’m so scared” and collapses in tears? That’s kind of how I feel this week. (But without the life threatening caffeine intake.)
First of all, look at how much more enormous my belly has gotten in the past month? (See, I’m allowed to say “enormous” because I’m me. That still doesn’t give anyone else permission. You might want to make a note of that somewhere, everyone on earth.)
That’s a lot of baby growin’. And as the belly gets bigger, and the movements coming from inside of it become more distinct, saying things like “when she gets here” seems crazy, because she IS very much here, she’s got a mind of her own already, and she’s almost done baking. Except right now she doesn’t ask for much, and I can take her anywhere. I assume all of that’s going to change once this inside baby becomes an outside baby.
Anyway – sleep is something that’s becoming more and more elusive to me. Now that there’s six pounds of human chillin’ on my bladder I have to pee around every five seconds. That slows to about hourly when I sleep. And once 4:30 or so rolls around, my internal clock seems to think I’ve had enough of this pesky sleep business (it’s wrong) and wakes me up for good. I thought the sleepless nights didn’t start until the baby comes, but it looks like I’m training for that nightmare already.
So the past few nights, as I lay awake between pees (pee’s?) I do a little mental tango, a’la Ms. Spano.
“I’m so excited…”
We’re gonna meet our baby! She’s gonna be so little, and we’re gonna be so in love.
“I’m so excited…”
I’m going to get to lay on my stomach, and drink a Margarita, and snuggle with my daughter, and just spend time getting to know this new little person.
Who the fuck said I could be a parent?!
…I mean, this is some scary shit. I’ve never been solely responsible for a newborn for more than 2 minutes while my sister used the bathroom. I panic about the name we’ll give her, the doctor we chose for her, how long to breastfeed, where she’ll go to preschool, whether she’s going to be a sleeper or a screamer, if LA is the right place to raise a child… Should I get the H1N1 vaccine? How am I going to balance work and motherhood? Will I ever lose the baby weight? Are Scott and I going to forget how to be awesome? Will I finish everything on my to-do list before she arrives? …and on and on and on….
But then it passes, and I’m excited again.
Here’s the update:
How far along? 36 weeks.
Total weight gain/loss: I’m no longer on speaking terms with my scale.
Stretch marks? They’re creeping out from under my tattoo. At least I’m pale and they’ll fade away, right?
Sleep: See above rant.
Best moment this week: I got to see her on the ultrasound for the first time since 20 weeks. She’s big.
Movement: She’s wiggling right now.
Food cravings: All of them.
Labor Signs: Some minor cramping.
Belly Button in or out? Just barely in.
What I miss: My fall wardrobe.
What I am looking forward to: Not being pregnant.
Weekly Wisdom: The dude at my nail place was afraid to give me a foot massage, for fear he’d accidentally induce me. I don’t know where the wisdom is in that, but I thought it was funny/annoying.
Milestones: I had my last ultrasound. Next time I see her, she’ll be in my arms.
Be kind, please click: