Well, here we are. 2 weeks from my last appointment, and 2 days away from the next one. I was pretty convinced that I wouldn't even make it to this appointment on December 2. Maybe convinced is the wrong word. I wasn't so much convinced as I was truly, to the depths of my soul, wishing that I wouldn't make it. Well, it being Wednesday, and the appointment being first thing Friday morning, I just don't see it going any other way than me being there, sitting on that table, getting poked and prodded, and being pregnant for much longer.
I reached the breaking point yesterday. We were sitting in bed watching Storage Wars (Eric just loves all those A&E specials - American Pickers, Pawn Stars, and so on) while I was gaming it up on Spider Solitaire (in which I didn't win a single game - Yes Spider Solitaire, I know you think you've beat me, Yes out of 4,628,371 games I have only won one, but this game is really all about consistency) and I looked over at Eric and said "It's happening." To which his response was "WHAT?!?!" In hindsight that probably wasn't the best word choice. I meant it's happening, I'm going to stay pregnant all the way up until I am practically 40 weeks pregnant, I'm going to have to endure Christmas dinner and parties and opening presents with a giant basketball yoga ball attached to me all the way up until the 29th of December when they will surgically remove said yoga ball who will presumeably weigh close to 10 pounds by that time and will continue to prove he is just as stubborn and runs completely on his own time for the rest of his life as he is now.
(That was a long sentence . . . . . perhaps that's why my teacher graded me down for "run-on" sentences".)
Eric laughed.
That's what he does for me lately.
He laughs.
Really it doesn't bother me. I know that I am the spitting image of all the Hollywood movies about pregnant women - I can't get out of the bed by myself I have to use Eric to push me out in that 1,2,3 HEAVE method you use when you try to get your Great Aunt Bertha up off the couch at family parties. I laze around on my days off in sweats that are entirely too big for me, they're actually entirely too big for Eric too, I'm really not sure which one of us brought them into this marriage, but even those GINORMOUS sweats barely cover my ever growing belly. I have an oven timer on my stomach that while it popped almost two weeks ago is a constant reminder of the hipocrasy of oven timers, as it sits there, continuously poking out in all of my clothes, day after day, and still no baby "dings" and comes out. I guess that's probably why they have taken back the suggestion to pull the turkey out of the oven the second that red button pops up. No leave it in, that will make momma happy. I eat about 20 tums a night - at least my calcium levels are through the roof, but sometimes I wonder how safe 20 tums a night is. Maybe secretly I'm hoping I go into a calcium overdose and they are forced to remove said child that is causing said heartburn and forcing me to eat said tums.
Unisom? Oh that lovely little invention of a gel tab sleep agent for my poor ailing pregnant body. How I love thee! Well, that is I DID love thee, until thee all of a sudden stopped doing thee job two days ago and have started abandoning me about 4 in the morning at which point I am left to toss and turn for the rest of the night. The cosmetic stores I am keeping in business in order to hide the giant black bags under my eyes thank you Unisom, they really do, you are making them rich.
This week is finals week. dun dun DUNNNNN!!!!
It really hasn't been so bad I guess. I got my first two papers done, have my third all typed up just waiting for a final read through and then to be turned in, then the last one, which is the one I am dreading as it is a RESEARCH paper on current ethical dilemmas in my hometown (what ethical dilemas? In Idaho? There's only white people here anyways) is due on Sunday. There was a time where I felt that if I procrastinated FOR SURE Murphy's Law would step into play and I would go into labor making it impossible for me to get my papers done, and showing me just how bad procrastination is on my 4.0 GPA.
Don't worry. I don't think that way anymore.
Instead I have resigned myself to the idea that while I sit in our very hard wood office chair staring at a huge computer screen typing about "Learning in an Info Age" or the "Continued Effects of Slavery Today" I get to feel little tiny nudges to my pubic bone every 3.27 seconds as our little boy has the hiccups yet again, and get up every 7.65 seconds to use the restroom as our little boy has decided to use my bladder as his permanent pillow causing me to go to the bathroom constantly while only able to expel tiny little dribbles. I can't wait until the day when I actually feel the "my bladder is full and I have to go the bathroom now" feeling and it actually rings true, rather then the hypocrisy that is that "full bladder" feeling when even a medicine dropper forces out more liquid.
Somehow I think this little one is waiting to come out until I actually have it registered in my brain that I can not, under any circumstances, actually fit my body through that tiny space between the seat and the sliding door on the van to help Parker put on his seatbelt, or that tiny space between that lady at the grocery store who is standing in front of the pop tarts - inevitably I will find myself wedged between the door asking Parker to "push mommy" (true story) or swing my giant gerth of waist into said lady as I try to maneuver around her. I swear, the men in my life have this uncanny desire to teach me patience . . . . . which is unappreciated.
Alas, it has been decided. I give in. I have now accepted the fact that it will be 29 days from today that I will walk in to the hospital at 8am ready to have them yank out a baby that they have scheduled for eviction at 9:30, but knowing that it is a hospital, and knowing the continued mission of this world to teach me patience, I know it will actually be 11:47 before the actually take me back to get the process started. I have now accepted that my stomach is going to get bigger, I will have to break my rules of wearing sweats out in public because in the matter of two more weeks I will no longer have any clothes that keep the entirity of this bouncing bundle of joy hidden. I have accepted the fact that I will drop all of my Christmas breakfast off of my fork, but rather than it firmly hitting the floor and creating a sticky syrupy mess, it will instead land on my fluffy shelf tummy allowing itself to be eaten once more.
Instead my attention has been turned to finding things to do to pass the time.
Yesterday was family dinner and my Uncle Brian's Birthday. Tonight is my Grandpa Lewis' birthday and I will be headed into Meridian for cake and ice cream for that. Tomorrow is work. Friday is a doctor's apointment at which I will find out nothing new, and then work. Friday night is a scout campout, Saturday morning is cleaning, making Christmas candy with the family, and the Boise State game. Sunday is Church. And so on and so forth. The only continued annoyance with the end of November/beginning of December is the constant reminders that SOMEONE'S baby at some point in time actually decided it was a good time to join the world, but alas, mine stays firmly snuggled in place. November 29th Uncle Brian's Birthday, November 30th Grandpa Lewis' Birthday, December 7th Grandma Carpender's birthday, December 13th Grandpa Carpender's Birthday, December 23rd is someone's birthday although I can't remember, December 25th Jesus's birthday (incorrectly, sadly mary had to wait an additional four months for April to roll around), Decemer 26th bro-in-law Jared's Birthday, December 27th Aunt Tiffany's Birthday, December 31st my brother Jordan's birthday . . . . and I'm sure the list could go on and on. It's these constant reminders that there is a child that is supposed to be coming out any day now and isn't that are what is making me truly saddened.
I'm sure when this child eventually does decide to come out, I will be so happy to have his handsome little face out, that I will forget about this whole waiting around game, but not yet.
I guess for now, it's just time Eric and I decide on a name.
I was trying to think of some helpful encouraging advice that would make you feel better, but I realized nothing would probably actually make you feel better. So, hang in there and eat all the ice cream/cake/cookies etc. you can, while it is still socially acceptable to be large and eating for two... :) Hope these last few weeks go by fast for you!
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