This is Your Brain on Baby

I could list all the annoying questions about my pregnancy, or questions that become annoying just by virtue of their frequency, but that's no fun.  I've learned that there are equally annoying answers that I give to a lot of said questions.  Now that's fun.  I can't say that I get why these answers are wrong, but let me tell you, they are. 

First, everyone wants to know when my last day of work is.  My honest answer is (1)when the baby comes,(2) or when I can't do it anymore, (3) or I don't know, because all of those are the same answer in my mind.  This is the part where men look at you like they might be called upon to deliver your child, thus seeing your business end and possibly having to fashion a tourniquet out of their belts/shoelaces.  If only things were going to happen that quickly. 

Another one I get a lot is whether we plan on having more children.  My brain can't really process this one.  At this point, I'm not sure that I'll ever have this baby, so I don't know where I'd put another one.   

People also ask how I feel a lot, which is really sweet and I appreciate it.  I said this in my last post, but I tend to err on the side of less information, just out of courtesy.  Sometimes, though, I think this is irritating to people. Women, especially.  I just don't really have the words to describe it, which is mostly because I feel pretty good.  If I had to though, the end of the third trimester is kiiind of like...being a capsized turtle with the appetite of a fourteen year boy.

Another one I get a lot is whether or not I plan to have an epidural--the obligatory "birth plan," as it's called in my baby books.  My plan is to not be pregnant anymore and whatever way that can best be achieved is the plan I'm signed up for.  Honestly, I just don't know.  I've never had a baby!  If I need an epidural, I'll get one.  If not, maybe not.  So many factors go into it, that the question to me is, how does anyone ever have a plan?  As you might know, I am a planner.  I set aside time to plan.  I love a plan, but I'm not about to tell the nurses and doctor what my "plan" is.  That's like when my clients start telling me about what they found on Google to get their case "squashed."   Sir, let me be the lawyer before you talk your way into stripes and plastic sandals.  I don't want to end up with the labor and delivery equivalent of plastic sandals.

I guess that's what it boils down to. I just don't want to end up with prison sandals, you know?

37 Weeks and 5 Days...

Because now I count hours and days.  I'm in my 38th week.  Are you tired of hearing about my pregnancy?

Shut up.

I'm just kidding. 

I'm not kidding. 

I'm starving. 

Why is it 900 degrees? 

Where did I put my mind? It was just here.

Why are there never any cookies?

Here's some Aristotelian Logic for you: I am pregnant. I have always been pregnant. I will be pregnant for the rest of my life.

I wish that I was intuitive enough to think that I know when he'll come, but I have no clue. Every night when I go to bed I think he's coming soon, and every morning I think he may hang in there through the end of my twenties. Even though I think I've probably got another couple of weeks, when other people suggest it, I have to fight the urge to bare teeth. Truthfully, I don't whine that much except to you, three readers, and to my ever patient husband. I may look like a marshmallow and feel like poo, but I'm still hanging on to my pride, by God! When people ask how I feel, I usually say that I feel great or that I'm a little tired. In the grand scheme of things, those things are true. Besides, no one wants to know that my hair hurts...that I had an existential crisis during breakfast...that I'm doing rain dances for contractions...that I'm scared to death sometimes...that I'd hurt someone for a strawberry pop tart...or cherry...that I can't remember what it's like to button pants. But, you know, I can't complain : )

35 Weeks

    Okay, I'm saying Uncle to pregnancy.  It got me.  I've had a pretty easy time, but I am still dunzo.  I feel terrible saying that because I've managed to avoid almost every bad pregnancy symptom in the book.  No heartburn, hemroids, constipation, insomnia, nausea, skin problems, etc.  I know, right?  I hate me too.  Even still, I'm worn out.  My energy level hasn't been that big of an issue since the beginning, but I'm definitely slowing down now.  I've gained around twenty two pounds and I don't think I want to add another ounce to carry around.  I attribute my easy time to ninety-five percent luck and five percent refusing to take it easy.  I've stayed too busy to think about how I'm feeling.  I don't want to slow down and I definitely don't want to be the whiny pregnant girl.  I don't like her. 

    Baby Locke seems to be enjoying the life aquatic.  He's gotten too big for his hijinks of a few weeks ago. Now he's more into doing a one-man hokey pokey.  But, you know, that is what it's all about.  According the doctor, he's droppin' it like it's hot, which explains why my Summer home is the bathroom.  Also, he's head down facing left/back, with his legs bent and kicking my lower left side.  I know that's hard to picture, so I'll put it this way, that moving protrustion on my right side is a tiny rear end that is womb-mooning you.  At the last ultrasound, the doctor commented on how long his fingers and his legs are and every time we tried to see his face, he'd kind of grimace and cover it with his hands and move away.  So, basically, I'm due to give birth to my husband in around five weeks.  I'm excited to have two of him!  Max has been kind enough to try out all of the baby gear for us.  He's been in the rocker, the crib and the stroller.   He's even tested a few toys to make sure they aren't a choking hazard.  That's love. 

My mom has threatened us all if I don't show her more pregnancy photos.  So:

This is from our trip to Vicksburg, before I got enormous.

We finished getting the nursery together.  I had more of a directorial role.  See above.

I think it turned out beautiful.

And then, the enormous found me.  This is yesterday:

You see, the hand helps you see where the baby is.  Why do we do this?

Afraid, with good reason, that he'll be diapered.

We're just not sure if we're ready.