Hi there

Hi baby,

You know what's crazy? We get to meet you tomorrow, your dad and I. They are gonna induce me because of the whole diabetes thing and we're just a few days shy of the due date and the fact that you may likely fall out of me the next time I stand up.

Last night I got a little freaked out about the whole prospect. There's this show that I loved called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know, lame name, great show. It had a spinoff called Angel, and there was this scene from the first episode I think, where Buffy and Angel, starcrossed lovers (you'll learn about that when you read Romeo and Juliet in high school), get to have this one amazing weekend together, but she is doomed to have her memory erased of the entire event. As the clock ticks toward the moment she'll forget forever, she fights it, insisting that she won't, that she will remember, that things won't have to change. And then the clock strikes, her memory is erased, and the Buffy that Angel knew for those precious days is lost to him forever.

I know it's insanely dorky me to reference a fantasy TV show, but that scene has truly haunted me these last few weeks. As the clocks ticks steadily toward the end of one life and the beginning of a completely new one, I just want to scream and yell and say that I will fight it, that things won't have to change. I won't have to grow up and take on the scariest, most awesome challenge known to mankind.

But I got to see you today at our last ultrasound. You were drinking, opening up this amazing little mouth, and then you sucked your thumb and kicked hello. And motherhood suddenly didn't seem so terrifying because meeting you has skyrocketed to the top of my priority list. Not my writing, not my travelling or scooting off to a movie or dinner with friends. Meeting you is pretty much all i want to do, and it looks like tomorrow I get my wish.

So, safe travels, godspeed and try not to kick me too much on the way out, ok? I'll see you on the otherside.

love,

Mom

They're real, and they are spectacular...and sore

Ok, so I suppose I've learned one thing that's great about pregnancy.

Boobs.

In a matter of days, I'm about to forfeit my chest to the little kickboxer that has been rooming inside me for almost 10 months now, but on date night Saturday, they were all mine. As a lifelong flatchested gal, I never cared about not having big boobs and I've talked here before about not getting the allure. Until now. Before dinner I noticed C staring at me from the couch with a slight smile. I asked him what the smirk was all about. Innocently he said "nothing" and tried to focus on the TV. And that's when I knew.

He was staring at the boobs.

Hee.

anytime now

If I don't go into labor RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT, I think I might go crazy.

(ahem. baby this is your cue)

Ok. Ready when you are.

Birthday

Just going to show that even other pregnant women lose their tact around pregnant women:

"God, I hope I don't end up THAT big." - said to me by a 7 month pregnant chick. In her defense, I think she was maybe 19 and still lives with her folks, so my superiorty complex kicked in and nursed me all the way back to the car.

Yesterday was Caleb's birthday, and it was no big secret that I was hoping to have the baby out and giftwrapped by the time the fam came over for burgers. Baby apparently had other plans, so Caleb had to make do with his kick-ass Willie Nelson painting I had commissioned for him by local folk artist Lamar Sorrento. Thursday I was convinved the baby was on the way. I felt absolutely wretched. My back hurt, I could barely walk, my vagina felt like it was having one big charley horse and I was just done. Then yesterday morning I woke up a well rested perky angel, just like today. So TRULY I'm not complaining. I'm sleeping through the night, I feel good. Baby's gonna come soon, so I might as well lap up my free time.

I'm just kinda dying to meet my kid.

Oh - since nature seems to have a way of balancing things, this really cute girl at Fino's came up to me at lunch and told me how beautiful I was. For all the times I've had strangers tell me how huge I am, I'm gonna kinda miss being pregnant for the kind souls who made my fucking year by saying things like that.

joy and pain

This is the face of the third trimester. Pretty, eh?


But, oooh, look what is! My favorite shower gift EVER came in from my mom. Are these not the cutest things you've ever seen??

eeew

So, Mr./Miss Baby. 3 centimeters. 80% effaced. You are docked at "0" in my pelvis. What's the big holdup, huh? Oh, it's your dad's birthday tomorrow? You want to make a grand entrance? Ok, I get that. So see you tomorrow, right?

Courtesy of the global warming, last night was deliciously warm so we decided to take advantage of the relatively low humidity and mosquito factor and went to Celtic Crossing. The patio was great, and because I was at an irish pub my gestational diabetes, like leprechauns and Brigadoon, all of a sudden didn't really exist, so I ordered up the fish and chips. I really just had the fish, light on the chips because the guilt factor was too high, but when I say I went light on the fish, fish didn't go so light on me. Last night was a bit rough. For the past 3 months, I've mainly eaten pretty lean meats and veggies and salads and peanut butter, so I don't think my body knew what to do with the influx of comfort food. Up and down to the bathroom, bleary with antihistamine. Woke up at five with my stomach still feeling weird. Then it just gets weirder when your husband is excited by the fact your bowels are basically having a goong out of business sale, because in his book, this means the baby is coming. I think it just means I need to stick to salads.

Though, last night was weird. I don't know how to talk about it without being disgustingly graphic, but - i'll do my best here - when I was having my, uh, episodes? I swear I felt my cervix opening and kinda staying open. With some pain. And then it closed, or stopped. You know? It YAWNED. That's the best way to describe it. My cervix yawned. So you see, baby? Even my CERVIX is getting bored with these shenanigans.

Princess Grumpy

So here we are, a day shy of Week 38. Spicy food? Speedbumps? Pact with the devil? Sex? I'd consider any and all just to get this show on the road. Sleep was a saucy tease last night. I was up about every 2 hours peeing or trying not scratch the eczema that has taken over my entire body. Alexa seems to think that all the hormones and attention toward fattening the baby up this week is allowing the eczema to run unchecked. I don't know what's going on, but if this kid doesn't come out soon, their mom may be missing their top layer of skin.

Oh, but last weekend was lovely. My cousin got married, a fancy 2 night affair, so I was required to get all dolled up with the challenge of not being mistaken for a grounded zeppelin. I think I succeeded. So many ladies told me how beautiful I looked, the younger girls saying that all hoped they looked like me when it was their turn to be preggo. All the compliments certainly had me floating as much as my 30 extra pounds would allow.

I see Diane tomorrow, an dlast we left it at her drumming her fingertips together like an evil mastermind, suggesting that "there are vays to get zee baby movingk" - minus the evil Germanesque accent. I think it involves words like "stripping" "membrane" and "pain" btu I say bring it on. Tomorrow is the first day of Aries, the 21st and 2 days shy of C's bday, so I couldn't think of a lovelier day for the baby to make his/her big debut.

37 weeks and counting

On our drive to dinner the other night:

Me: You know, I kinda hope its a boy.
C: Why's that?
Me: Because he'll be so handsome like his daddy. I just can't wait to see whose traits he'll end up with.
C: What do you want them to have of yours?
Me: Hmmm....my sparkling wit...
C: mmhmmm
Me: My devastating good looks...
C: Your modesty?
Me: Of course. My mouth.
C: Your mouth?
Me: Yeah, I discovered I have a good mouth. Maybe its the hormones or something, but my lips seem really full. I have a great mouth.
C turns and studies my mouth.
C: Uh, sure.
He changes the subject. I can't believe he had to look. I can't believe I'm getting pissy. But still...I can't believe he looked. I have an awesome mouth.

*********************************
I talked to Jill yesterday who was very excited by my news that I was officially 37 weeks - full freakin term.
"Are you calm?" she asked.
And it hit me. I was. And I am. It's like somebody threw a little switch in my head. I'm not scared anymore. I'm not anticipating pain or the scary hormones. I'm just ready and really excited. Maybe it's the knowledge that the baby is fully formed (with hair!) and can survive now that I'm 37 weeks. I'm just thankful for the calm. As long as it lasts...

*********************************

My dream last night: Caleb's ex girlfriend had a baby boy and I was really happy for her but really frustrated that everybody around me but ME was having a kid.

And another crazy parent dream: I was at FedEx in the 1970s, around the time my dad started there as a young attorney. I showed up unexpectedly to visit him, passing secretaries dressed like Pan Am flight attendants, and was stunned to see him in his office shredding documents and smoking a giant stogie like he was some white collar felon. Which apparently he was about to be as the feds were coming to bust him. he also had kickass sideburns and a crazy 70s suit - very dream appropriate.

All I can assume from these dreams that unmask my wonderful loving parents as frauds as textbook PROJECTION on my part. For all this newfound "calm," apparently I'm still terrified at the kind of parent I'm going to turn out to be. Or II need to start watching my back when I meet the folks for lunch.

Blastoff

I'm writing this from the nursery that is finally starting to look like a nursery. The crib linens are washed and put on said crib. The changing table is all set with a pad and we even picked up The Chair that Threatened to End a Marriage from Babies R Us. I think it looks fine, but more importantly, it feels like a little slice of heaven when I sit in it. So there! It's just blowing my mind that in less than 3 weeks time, a baby is going to be living in this room.

After a rough few days of squabbling with C and watching my blood sugar spike like crazy and enduring comments like "Oh, you are totally having a boy. You are way too big for that to be a girl," I sent out a distress call to Diane. I emailed her a pic of what I thought was my ginormous belly and told her about my concern over the blood sugar and she hustled me into the office asap. Reassured on all front. I got to have an ultrasound just to confirn that I wasn't birthing Godzilla, and the baby measured a whopping 6 lbs 1 oz. That's in the 25% percentile, DOWN from 31% 2 weeks ago. She said that it just doesn't look to be in the cards for me to have a big baby. And I am just dandy with that. She also said that I am 2 centimeters dilated which rocks - thank you sweet body for easing me into this - and the baby's head is super low and pretty much ready for takeoff. of course, she warned that I could go all the way to my due date like this, but with the cramping and the dilation, it's looking pretty likely that the baby will be here sooner than later.

The baby just kicked me as I typed that. Was that a once for "exactly...so get ready?"

**************************

I just remembered part of my dream last night. My "parents," who did not at all resemble my nearest and dearest, tried to have me killed. I outed their plans and had a nasty row with them in their house, throwing things and calling my mother - a shrill, evil looking woman with a bad perm, a motherf**cker, which, even in my dream, seemed kinda funny and wildly inappropriate, even though she had been trying to kill me.

1 cm!

Had my first exam today and was pleased to hear that my cervix has been doing its homework. I'm "at least" 1 cm dilated (I was gunning for 8, but I'll take what I can get) and while I didn't get a percentage on how effaced it was, the doctor assured me it "was what he liked to see." Is there anything a male gyno can say that doesn't sound inherently icky? My ob/gyn wasn't available today and I was none too pleased that I only had 2 options - a male doc that is a good family friend (eew) and another male doc who a friend of mine can't stand. Not wanting to be probed by a guy I spend the holidays with, I chose the jerk. And he was perfectly nice if not a little patronizing - he mentioned I had gained 3 pounds in one week which had me sputtering that the nurse wrote it down wrong - which she did - and he kept telling me to stop working out. It didn't make much sense. And then he congratulated me on doing well with my blood sugar, saying that there wasn't any sugar in my "tt."

My tt.

You know, the stuff that comes out of a bajingo.

Doofus.

Dear Baby

Dear Baby,

I suppose if you were to read back on the last few posts, you might be having some doubts about actually making your debut from the loins of such a frazzled, worrywort of a mom. Because I want to calm any fears (and ensure you actually do come out) I wanted to talk about the things that make me happy when I think about you.

1. You are going to be so small that you might actually fit into those preemie-size outfits of Avery's I accidentally shrank in the drier.
2. You are going to be the most photographed infant on the planet, next to Anne Geddes' kids, and I won't put you in any of that creepy cheesecloth.
3. Judging from the way you respond to ITunes, you're going to have your father's taste in music. Why that makes me somewhat sad (no JT, little one?), you dig soul singers and really seem to like Amy Winehouse's Rehab which makes you a hipster - and you haven't even been born yet.
4. I'm going to get to introduce you to the pleasures of taking nice, long baths. If you can hold my New Yorker, it's yours.
5. You are a smooshed up grabbag of traits of me and your crazy hot, wonderful dad, and I can't wait to spot them all as you grow.
6. You will be proof that I can start and finish something.
7. You will also discover the pleasures of eating, and I will do my best to make sure that after "mom" and "dad," papadum will be your first word.
8. If I don't go crazy and runaway with you back to LA, you're going to grow up surrounded by family and an awfully adorable cousin.
9. You're going to be my sous chef.
10. You're going to be out of my belly and in my arms very soon. My back is particularly excited about this. It stops my heart sometimes, but I think that's only because like my uterus, it's getting ready for a pretty major workout.

worry

Along with the swelling, the bitching, the deep ache in the back that doesn't go away, I'm thinking maybe worry is part of the 3rd trimester litany of complaints that's just par for the course. So much of my focus has been worrying about me - my discomfort, my guilt over my relative cakewalk of a pregnancy, my fear of labor pain, my fear of being a terrible parent, my fear of post partum depression, of painful postpartum sex and incontinence if I have a vaginal birth, or torn abdominal muscles if I have a c section.

And then in a rare shift of considering anyone's/thing's experience outside of myself, I started worrying about the baby. I woke from a deep sleep the other night convinced I heard someone going through our garbage cans. The baby felt like a hard slab of clay in my belly, like an art project settling overnight until the artist came back to complete his work. The weight and lumpish feel of it started to really bother me. Usually the baby moves the second my eyes open, and as little room as they have, it still is a feeling of fluidity, of pliable skin and waves. This felt cold, hard..dare I even type the words - dead. I instantly tried to take back the thoughts. The baby was fine, just in a deep sleep and comfy. But I couldn't stop the onslaught of panic. I had opened up the What to Expect book - right to the section on stillborn births. Was that supposed to be a sign? A premontion of this very moment? What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to go back to sleep when the baby could be in fetal distress, me powerless to do anything. But was I really powerless? Was this something covered in childbirth class that I just glossed over? Would I - the baby kicked. And kicked again, and did that weird rolling thing that felt what I think a whale breaching and crashing down on its side looks like. The baby was fine.

For now.

And Caleb - when he left for work today. Gave me a sweet smile that suddenly begged the question - what if this was the last time I saw him? What if he were to be hit by a car on the way to work, leaving me all alone to raise a child, to wallow in grief. Then, immediately after, I heard a radio show about a young mom trying to explain to her son why his father was dying of a rare brain disease, a man who ran marathons and ate organic vegetables. Just like Caleb.

My god I haven't even given birth and the worrying is already paralyzing. retarded and nonproductive and silly and a unhealthy way to try and assert control over the unknowable by trumping worry at its own game - by coming up with all the scenarios before they can actually happen - yes I've been in therapy for this in the past - but still fresh, painful and exhausting.

ready to pop

Saturday was the Wild Women Shower and Sue spent the weekend with us. Got lots of cute clothes - funny how it was divided between the skulls and the lambs contingency. Because of the gestational diabetes I've been obsessed with baking, so rationally I decided it was time to bake cupcakes as a thank you gift to those hosting the shower. Suffice it to say the decorations were cute, but ultimately it looked like a baby sitting on a giant mountain of poo. And to my horror, after being on my feet until about 1 AM frosting cupcakes, I realized my feet were really starting to hurt. Like, really really hurt. Caleb was already asleep, so I fumbled my way to the bathroom in the dark and got undressed. And then I saw my ankles.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sheer size. You see those insane power walkers with the weights around their ankles? It was kind of like that, but squishy. And really, really gross. It was like my boobs had slid all the down into my ankles for a change of scenery. It was disgusting and sadly, while they haven't again returned to that supersized addition, they are fully swollen everyday by 3, making it prettty much a bitch to walk anywhere.

My saint of a mom came over today and helped get rid of the mountain of trash that had become the nursery, and it's looking really close to being ready for an actual baby. I'm 36 weeks as of Wednesday, and it is blowing my mind that I will be a mom in less than a month. I don't know if anyone is truly ready to become a parent, but then, maybe that is why one's 3rd trimester body becomes such a hostile environment. At that point you're bargaining with God that you'll do anything, be a freaking PARENT, just get the kid out of me.

So I'm not that desperate yet, but I definitely would not be crushed if baby decided to make an early debut. Like right now.