38 weeks. I’m 38 weeks pregnant. Oi. I’ve transitioned to wearing Justin’s t-shirts whenever possible. They’re just so much more comfy than my own! I did this with Mitchell, too. My t-shirt of choice with Mitchell was a bit more…socially acceptable, though.
(the shirt says “B is for Brewski)
Luckily, generally, I rarely leave the house, and the acceptability of the shirt doesn’t really come up around the house. If you look really closely at that picture, you can see my belly button popping through the shirt. That’s right. Popped belly button. I thought it’d be so cute, but really it’s just creepy and itchy. Yes, itchy. Weird.
Grandpa bought Baby a new swing yesterday, and after carefully explaining to Mitchell that it’s Baby’s, not his, he got into the spirit.
Coming down the stairs to see a baby in the swing is a bit disconcerting, though. I know she’s coming in two weeks (or less), but it’s just so hard to believe. I was so much more ready for Mitchell. It’s like the world is trying to stall me, though. I found out Monday night that I should have registered at the hospital by 36 weeks and there was a bit of a kerfuffle with that today. Then at my doctor appointment today I found out I’m further along…ah…cervix-wise….at 38 weeks than I was after 36 hours of labor with Mitchell, so I freaked out and ran to Target to do a registry completion. Only to be told my registry was messed up. After an hour and a half, the frazzled manager just said she’d manually give me the completion discount. Her and the cashier both calculated it, and I wasn’t paying much attention, but after we left I realized they’d given me a discount of 35% rather than 15%. So I guess it was worth it! After a quick Amazon registry completion, I think I should be stocked up and ready (supplies, anyway) in a few days. Stay in for a few days, girl! I still have a bunch of stuff to unpack and wash and whatever, but that shouldn’t take long.
So, final countdown, here we come!
Mitchell decided to channel Elf for lunch. He got some Christmas M&Ms in his stocking, and I couldn’t get him to sit down for lunch. So I finally told him that we couldn’t go get Grandpa from the airport until he ate his lunch. I came into the dining room to find him dumping his M&Ms into the bowl of pasta and eating them.
Last night we went to a place called Clifton Mill and saw approximately two million lights. That’s just my approximation, of course. It was a nice little outing, Mitchell loves the lights. And it got us out of the house!
Well here we are, at 37 weeks. Doesn’t my head look ridiculously small compared to my belly?
Here’s how I know I’m huge: random strangers feel the need to comment on the size of my belly. I get it people, I’m pregnant. Two days after the lady gave birth on the airplane, two different strangers felt the need to relate the story to me. Did I look like I was about to hop on a plane? Or randomly give birth? I don’t think so. Yesterday, at my doctor’s appointment, I met one of my doctors. At least, I think that’s who it was. At any rate, a man in scrubs came up behind me in the hallway, grabbed my belly, and said in a Southern accent, “That’s a mighty big belly for such a small girl.” Creepy? I kinda thought so. I swear, he was all the way down the hall and around the corner before I collected myself enough to say, “Oh, yeah…felt like that the first time around, too!”
I’ve been having random contractions, but they always quit if I lay down for a while. I had an entire morning/early afternoon full of contractions today, but as soon as I got home they quit. Which is probably good, since I’m only 37 weeks. According to the nurse, that’s considered full term with them, but I saw enough March of Dimes posters to make the logical part of my brain want her to stay in there another couple weeks. Plus I would feel terrible if she was born on Christmas or within a few days of Christmas. Plus Mitchell and I both have terrible colds. It’d suck to bring a baby home with a cold.
Meanwhile, I did a Pinterest project with Mitchell. It was called bubble foam. I mistakenly put it in the bathtub with him, which was a bad idea for a few reasons. First of all, it confused the hell out of him to get in the tub with his diaper still on. Second of all, he hated the feel of it on his skin. Third, it turns out when you put something in the tub that’s made of dish soap, it gets a bit slippery. He was just getting into it when he slipped and fell and refused to let go of my arm for fifteen minutes. But then he calmed down and pretended he was cooking the foam. Lesson learned, we’ll do it again but not in the tub.
Mitchell’s hugs can get a little intense…
My poor baby is sick, just in time for the holidays. Stuffy nose, fever, lots of coughing, the works. Luckily, he’s old enough 1) to take medicine, and 2) get lied to about said medicine. He really enjoys his “special juice” from the “baby cup”. But even with medicine, he’s completely out of it. The bonus is, he kinda just wants to lay around.
Oh, and invent his own games. He started using his stacking cups to sort the counting animals by color.
Mitchell met Santa today! He was unimpressed. But he agreed to stand next to Santa long enough for a picture in exchange for a little bitty stuffed penguin, like the two stuffed penguins his daddy has given him that he insists on sleeping with and carrying back and forth between his bed and our bed anytime he wakes up. Seriously, it takes him two trips to get to our bed because the penguins are so big and he also has to bring his blanket.
I can’t believe I’m at 36 weeks. 9 months. In other words, SO CLOSE.
The room is slowly coming together. All the newborn clothes have been washed. Other than a few random things, everything has been bought. She Who Must Not Be Named is also getting ready for her arrival, positioning herself very nicely in the uterus…for a moment…then moving away…then back again. The nurse was very astonished that, this far along, she could still move around that much. I was less astonished, having been on the receiving end of some pretty vicious kicks and punches. Seriously, Mitchell never found my ribs. This girl is under the impression that ribs are drums and deserve to be kicked. Preferably at about 3:00 a.m., right after her big brother has been returned to his bed and Mommy settles in for a few hours sleep.
But anyway. She’s still unnamed, which keeps me awake many nights. She has a large collection of hats, headbands, and shoes. And we’re all anxiously awaiting her arrival. But she can definitely wait a few weeks. Big Brother is definitely not ready to share Mommy!