Still Cookin’

My spirit animal

I’m almost 31 weeks. That’s 8 months! 9 weeks to go. Sometimes I can’t believe I have that much growing to do yet. I feel huge already, even though I’ve only gained 9 pounds. Unwieldy. Unbalanced. Constipated. So, so glamorous. Other times, I’m terrified to be so close to labor/birth. I’m pretty nervous about going through that again. Petrified actually. I have a different doctor and a different hospital this time around. I’m letting go of any unrealistic expectations (ahem, birth plan) and am planning to just try to go with the flow, whatever flow that may be. My hospital is rated number one and it happens to be the one all the celebrities give birth in — I don’t know why that makes me feel better, but it does. I mean, they have the money to go wherever they want, and they’re choosing this one. That must mean something. I’ll just explain to my doc that I’m scared and hopefully she can put it on my chart so that all nurses are nice to me.

The little bugger is moving all the time — Feels like he’s doing gymnastics. And he has really good roundhouse kicks to my bladder. He loves to wake me up in the middle of the night. I suppose I should get used to that. I was running errands with my first over the weekend and several times I gasped and had to stop what I was doing to just put a hand on my belly. It’s disconcerting. She never moved like this boy. I’m worried about what awaits me when he gets out! Everyone tells me boys are wilder. I try to just be grateful that I’m feeling him.

I asked my doc if I need to be concerned about the cord being twisted around his neck with all his movement. She says it’s very rare and every mom worries about that. My mom friend said, “Both of mine had it. It can’t be that rare.” So yay, add another little worry to my library of things to obsess over.

Still plenty to do before he gets here, including naming him. One of the most frustrating experiences this time around. I have several names I like, but the hubs hates them. He has a few he likes, and I’m not crazy about his. And there we sit. Because we both get worked up when we discuss it, we’ve stopped discussing it. He may come home from the hospital as Baby Boy. Sorry, kid. Someone said they won’t let you leave the hospital without naming your child, so perhaps this will be the perfect opportunity to slip Ace on the birth certificate. “I had to pick something, and I panicked!” Hee hee hee….



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