jeez louise two months. what follows is a snapshot of what’s swirling around in my head, not necessarily all that heavy on big-picture perspective, but certainly indicative on what being in 8-9th month of pregnancy does to a this lady’s world view.
well. i’m still pregnant, 35 weeks along, 5 or so weeks to go.
i now lumber more than walk, and my pace has slowed slowed slowed. until about yesterday, nothing brought me more pleasure than to get off my feet, lay down on my left side on the couch, on the bed, and let the weight of my belly be supported by something other than my pelvis and lady parts area. somehow this pregnancy sits in my body with all the pressure and stress focused like little knives in my lady parts. not lower back. not sciatic nerve. all hips and tendons and ligaments that support under the belly.
then yesterday my daily sprawl-with-a-pleasure-moan on my side was fine for a little while, then i began to notice the unpleasant sensation of internal pressure moment. like someone’s little head or elbow was grinding into my cervix, rotating and pressing. not bumping kicks and somersaulting about, but slow hot radiating pressure breath-taking discomfort. not pain exactly. but not funny kicking.
she’s been decidedly head down for the past month, i guess, since both visits to the midwife reveals as much. now, of course, i am paranoid and wonder whether she is attempting to turn herself around right side up, in some kind of fit of contrary brady-rizzio-ness.
all the moments and belly pulsings is fun, but i’d prefer you stay aimed down, little girl.
otherwise, i’m still engaged in the perpetual task of stifling low-level panic about finding something comfortable enough to wear out in the world, that is work-appropriate (though this particular definition is becoming pretty loose), that is weather-appropriate, that is activity appropriate. there is this tension between being snug enough to stay on my bod, and not being so snug that i want to tear off all items of clothing within 30 seconds of putting them. underwear, oh how i look forward to not feeling your steel wire-like constriction on my lower belly.
still eating well, still napping when i can.
work’s 8 hour marathon is only possible, i guess, because of the stress and push and distraction of all that comes to my plate. this week began the process of disentangling myself a little from that. not taking on new bits starting this coming week. focus moving to wrapping up things in process, getting staff and boss ready for me not to be here.
i’m not feeling ready for this yet, feeling worried that little bebe will come too early, that all will not be well. midwives said this week that as of week 35, which is tomorrow, any contractions aren’t considered pre-term. so there’s that. i just don’t want contractions to mean that she’s coming now, since that would still be a month early. i have no reason to think she will come early, of course, except the incessant comments from people at work who feel compelled to assure me that there’s no way i’m going to make it to the middle of february. thanks folks.
to be clear, i have not, to my knowledge, have been having contractions. at least anything that is like what i imagine a contraction will feel like.
feels like there’s these markers of events that are supposed to happen before she comes. happy events, to be sure, but events which require strategic preparatory eating, napping, and mental preparations. family events. showers. meeting with doula. final pre-natal classes. it’s all good, all happy loving stuff. it just requires propelling my body through space, and not falling asleep.
then the activities, all of which seem like olympic-like feats of strength and endurance and attention. wash all the bebe clothes (insert moan about the fact that the machines are two flights of stairs away from bebe room, and get-over-it shake of self over how easy we’ve got it…not like i have to trek to a laundromat). figure out what diapers to buy. figure out where to buy the diapers. get to diaper buying location. buy the diapers. get the diapers home and up the stairs into the bebe room.
pack the bag for hospital.which involves figuring out what among the various essential lists of things we’ve been given actually should go in said bag.
try not to freak out at dave because he’s not all obsessed and worrying about things being ready and doing baby-related things.
worrying about how the hell i’m going to be able to make the commute into work for another five weeks. five weeks!! that’s 50 commutes! if i take the subway that’s something like 4000 flights of stairs. figuring out what my fiscal threshold is for paying for parking just for the ease of not dealing with the 4000 flights of stairs.
so i am happy that our girl is healthily rolling around in there, busily doing whatever she is doing in there, plumping up and getting strong. but it is feeling real-er and real-er, and also more and more unknown, how to keep breathing through this.
and damn, baby, it’s cold outside.