So I'm 36 weeks now. The last time I went to the doctor, she said it's basically on. Meaning I could really go into labor at any time. I'm hoping/praying my body holds out until at least 38 weeks. We can't move into our new place until Monday, which means I have no nursery to set up. I also need to wash everything I have been given for the baby since we have had a mouse infestation these last two weeks. (Viva NYC.)
On the other hand, I'm over being pregnant. I am so huge that I can't bend over; tying my shoes--even when I put my feet in my lap--is a trial. I no longer walk or even waddle; I am lumbering around like Marge Gunderson in Fargo. And has anyone seen my ankles? Because they're gone. I have heard this happens to many pregnant women, but I just never assumed it would happen to me. Then, the other day, I looked down at my feet and exclaimed "Holy shit!" It is really weird looking. Another thing: I leak urine every time I cough or produce a hearty giggle. It's all glamouroussexyfuntimes up in here.
My to-do list is getting shorter, but I still have to finalize a pediatrician, get a few important remaining things for the baby (furniture, baby carrier, etc) and also pack my go-bag for the hospital. Oh, and take an infant CPR class. Oh yeah, and MOVE. On New Year's Eve. Can I tell you how stressful this has been? When I think about how much I've done and how much I still have to do, I think--as I often have during this pregnancy--of "Raising Arizona." In particular, I identify with the scene where Frances McDormand and her creepy husband go to visit H.I. and Ed, and Frances' character is drilling Ed about all the stuff she needs to do. "Who is his pediatrician? You don't have a pediatrician? You have to do that this instant!" and "Has he gotten his dip-tet yet? He HAS to get his dip-tet!" Cut to Ed looking forlorn and overwhelmed, and mumbling weakly to H.I., "We need to do that, honey." That's pretty much how I've felt for the last two months.
And when I think about how much I have already done in the calendar month of December, it makes me want to lie the fuck down and sleep for 20 hours. In the month of December, I have worked my usual 50-60 hours a week (with the exception of this last week), hosted my in-laws for a weekend, shopped for Christmas and mailed presents, designed & ordered & mailed 30+ Christmas cards, prepared a full Christmas dinner, sent out thank-yous for my shower, closed on an apartment, hired movers, and started packing for said move.
And there's still so much left to do...
On the other hand, I'm over being pregnant. I am so huge that I can't bend over; tying my shoes--even when I put my feet in my lap--is a trial. I no longer walk or even waddle; I am lumbering around like Marge Gunderson in Fargo. And has anyone seen my ankles? Because they're gone. I have heard this happens to many pregnant women, but I just never assumed it would happen to me. Then, the other day, I looked down at my feet and exclaimed "Holy shit!" It is really weird looking. Another thing: I leak urine every time I cough or produce a hearty giggle. It's all glamouroussexyfuntimes up in here.
My to-do list is getting shorter, but I still have to finalize a pediatrician, get a few important remaining things for the baby (furniture, baby carrier, etc) and also pack my go-bag for the hospital. Oh, and take an infant CPR class. Oh yeah, and MOVE. On New Year's Eve. Can I tell you how stressful this has been? When I think about how much I've done and how much I still have to do, I think--as I often have during this pregnancy--of "Raising Arizona." In particular, I identify with the scene where Frances McDormand and her creepy husband go to visit H.I. and Ed, and Frances' character is drilling Ed about all the stuff she needs to do. "Who is his pediatrician? You don't have a pediatrician? You have to do that this instant!" and "Has he gotten his dip-tet yet? He HAS to get his dip-tet!" Cut to Ed looking forlorn and overwhelmed, and mumbling weakly to H.I., "We need to do that, honey." That's pretty much how I've felt for the last two months.
And when I think about how much I have already done in the calendar month of December, it makes me want to lie the fuck down and sleep for 20 hours. In the month of December, I have worked my usual 50-60 hours a week (with the exception of this last week), hosted my in-laws for a weekend, shopped for Christmas and mailed presents, designed & ordered & mailed 30+ Christmas cards, prepared a full Christmas dinner, sent out thank-yous for my shower, closed on an apartment, hired movers, and started packing for said move.
And there's still so much left to do...
No comments:
Post a Comment