35 Weeks – 8 months, 3 weeks.
I swing back and forth between “I can’t believe I have another month of this. I’m so uncomfortable.” And: “Holy shit, it’s June. In one month, I will have a baby. How did this happen????”
Guys. I’m a good girl scout. I’m a planner, a preparer. I have 4 earthquake kits for crying out loud. But I am NOT prepared for this. I just got my giant, 40-lb copy of The Baby Book and am frantically reading. I don’t know why I waited so long to learn about babies. I’m so overwhelmed and out of my element. Every paragraph I read is a revelation for me. I still don’t know anything about anything, and this book is 741 pages long! Aaaghh!
We don’t even have a back-up doctor yet in case we end up heading to a hospital. Or a pediatrician. Or a daycare. Although, I’ve been told that it’s already too late to get into a daycare in four months. (I kinda don’t care about that one. I don’t think I could hand my 3-month-old over to strangers in the germ-infested group of stranger babies. My coworker’s baby just came down with Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. You can bet I googled the shit out of that one. Turns out, it’s just a virus, but jeez, how about not calling it a disease??) Anyway, I don’t think I have the strength to do daycare. But we don’t have a nanny either! Maybe I’ll just never go back to work … hahaha. Wish that was an option.
Yesterday, I got out the breastpump and stared at it. I finally opened it and read a few pages of the instruction book before shoving it all back in the corner of the nursery. I am not ready. I still need things like breast shells and breastmilk storage bags and some goop called lanolin for my nipples, which according to everything I read, will get all cracked and bleedy, especially because I’m fair-skinned. (WTF?) Not yet ready to deal with that. I also bought The Breastfeeding Book, but that one’s gotta wait until I finish the baby book, if finishing that monster is even a possibility.
I scheduled a Newborn Care class, but it’s not offered until the week before my due date. Cutting it kind a close, aren’t we?? And then there’s the Infant CPR class that I’m trying to get us into that same week. And I wanted to drop in on a breastfeeding class of some sort … hold on, I need to breathe into a bag for a minute …
In times of panic, I have these “I need my Mommy” moments, but that doesn’t offer me any relief. My 72-year-old mother is far away and has nothing to offer me other than “You’ll figure it out. We all do. You won’t be perfect parents, and that’s OK.”
DH is decorating the nursery as I type this. We were butting heads from the start about what we wanted that room to look like. It was much like the wedding planning. I felt like he shouldn’t give a shit, and should just give me the nesting opportunity since I’m the mom dammit! We disagreed about the rugs, but I won that one. We disagreed about the curtains, but I let him win that one. We disagreed about the cherry tree wall decall we want over the crib, but I finally just had to let it go. My friend pointed out to me that I’m a controller, and I don’t let him decide much. I argued with her about how that’s untrue, but upon further reflection, she’s probably right.
So, I’m throwing my hands up and am letting him finish that room. I mean, it’s only fair. I get to birth our child; he should get to design the nursery, right? Hahaha. I’m being sarcastic because I feel like I get the shit job, and he gets the fun one, but I know that it’s also true. He needs to feel connected to this process too, and I really want him to feel like a part of our daughter’s world. So, even though I offered a few critical comments about how I would apply the decals differently (hey, I’m a work in progress), I’m going to try to shut my mouth and let him do it as he sees fit. And it will be great, because he’s got good style, and I trust him, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s just a room. (Just really thankful that we’re not having a son, as that whole circumcision decision would be a mountain to climb before coming to an agreement, I just know it.)
On the other end of the spectrum, I’m uncomfortable as hell. And I know I’m not even that big yet. This next month is all about the baby growing – like a half pound a week or something — and I can’t imagine how that’ll feel four weeks from now. Right now, she’s all up in my guts and ribs and lungs, and there’s no such thing as a comfy position. Sitting at my desk at work, I have to make myself sit up as straight as can be, because I can feel her against my inside bits and holy shit that hurts. I get these sharp pains and have to get up and walk and go to the bathroom to make them go away. (Pregnancy tip: when you feel something weird, go to the bathroom. Most of the time, that makes it go away. Who knew? I guess it just makes more room or something…) At one point this week, I hobbled to the bathroom, hand on my belly, in pain in one part of my gut, trying not to freak people out and look like I’m in labor or something. As I’m peeing, there was this “pop” sensation in that very area and the pain instantly vanished. What the hell was that??? Was the baby caught on a rib? Were my guts all tangled like a kinked garden hose and that was them untangling?? Beats the hell out of me, but the pain is gone, so I’m not going to worry about it.
And sleep — oh, beloved sleep — it’s becoming a challenge. Here’s an example of a typical night:
10:00-10:30 Go to bed. Use hypnobreathing to fall asleep.
11:30 DH comes to bed, wakes me up. Get up and go pee.
1:00 Go pee.
2:00-2:30 Wide awake for no reason. Go pee, eat a snack, sit on couch and stare into space for 30 min. Contemplate turning on a light and reading. Decide to try sleep again. Go back to bed.
3:00 Move to right side to ease hip pain.
3:15 Move back to left side.
4:00 Snoring begins. DH starts rubbing my back, waking me up, thinking that I’m having trouble breathing. I probably was, but was unaware until he touched me.
4:30 Wake up several times due to my own snoring. I’m probably keeping DH awake. Go pee, then move to couch.
6:00 Hear DH get up. He gives me a kiss good morning. I go pee, then move back to the bedroom.
6:30 Wake up to the sounds of DH’s spoon and cereal bowl. Just get up already because I have to pee.
Oy. I know this probably pales in comparison to the lack of sleep I’ll get when baby is here, but I feel like I’m getting some good practice in… ZZZzzzzz…..
So, nothing new. Still bitching. Still scared. Still feel unprepared. But that’s all normal, right?? Someone lie to me…