I had some really clever title for this post last night before I fell asleep, but it's gone. Poof. Into the amniotic ether. But yes, here I am. Still pregnant. Kind of tired of the incredulous looks and exclamations when I tell people my due date is 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 days away. I guess I should be happy that no one has said, Oh my god you're so BIG. I don't really feel that big (except when trying to get in/get out/roll over in bed - for some reason those things are AMAZINGLY DIFFICULT. And require a lot of grunting.). I was in the office for a couple of hours the other day (I'm working mostly from home now, primarily so I don't have to actually get dressed and can wear stretchy maternity yoga pants allllll the time) and I felt like such a spectacle, as everyone and their assistant asked when the due date was, when my last day of work was, if I was feeling OK. My goodness. A co-worker who sits in an adjoining officle (cubicle + door = officle) overheard me tell someone it was 9 days until my due date. She came literally running over after he left, and seemed quite alarmed about me being in the office when I could clearly have a baby at any second! Right here in this office, on the ugly carpet! She is in at least her late 40's, unmarried, no children. And she has watched waaaay too many movie/TV representations of labor. "Do you have a suitcase here at work?" No, because I'm not really working here at the office, and I live five minutes away. "Do you have a backup emergency plan if you go into labor here?" Uh, no, because again, I live five minutes away, my birth place is 10 minutes away, my husband works in the building, most women go into labor at night in the safety of darkness, and labor is generally long. Loooooong. (Unless of course you are my friend Janine whose babies slide out in 2 hours or less and walks around 8 cm dilated with no discernible contractions. But she's extra-speshul, and her genes are going to kick all of our genes' asses.) "Well, I'm right over here if you need anything." Yes, and I will definitely turn to you instead of say, my husband, or my doula, or a trained childbirth professional. Thanks. I know she means well, but come on.
The belly is definitely full up. Sometimes the baby stretches, and it's almost painful as my skin pulls taut, I think, there is just no more room in there. And ow, as a little heel or elbow thrusts out with surprising power. I haven't really felt like OMG get out this very second get out but I will be glad to reclaim whatever is left of my body. I just want to eat, y'all. Like a full dinner, with spicy food, and a whole entire beer and dessert, and no goddamn heartburn and burping. I have definitely had it with those very special touches of pregnancy.
Sometimes, as I lie in bed, I can feel my "old" body underneath, my hipbones, my abs. I know it's in there, and it will be ready again someday soon to take me on a run, carry the baby to Eastern Market, lift her up in the air to let her look around. It just has a little more work to do first.
We think we're ready. Seth keeps talking to the baby and telling her she can come out now. I reached sort of a peaceful, still place about it a couple of weeks ago, realizing I was ready to give myself over to labor whenever it happened. The baby clothes are all washed, our bags are packed for the birth center, the baby is head down, face down, in optimal position for labor (high five, baby!), we actually installed the car seat correctly (apparently we are baby seat installation geniuses). Massage, relaxation, Bradley method, yoga, Happiest Baby, breastfeeding - we've taken classes, read, practiced, breathed.
And of course, when we got this baby sling as a gift, we immediately put the dog into it to try it out, because who doesn't do that? After the trial run, we're glad the baby will be smaller. And less hairy.