30 weeks pregnant and feeling a bit like a water
balloon – round, bouncy, and over-stretched.
If you’re weirdly observant you may have noticed that I haven’t really
kept to a certain calendar about how far along I am; that’s due to a few
things:
1.
Officially
I gain a week every Tuesday, due to LMP calculations
2.
When I did my 20 week ultrasound on a Tuesday,
the technician said Stormageddon was measuring 20 weeks and 4 days
3.
Last time I was measured I was a week bigger
than expected (not that sticking measuring tape on my belly is all that
accurate)
4.
I’d really like to have this baby sooner rather
than later (smaller babies for the win!), so I’m erring on the hopeful side
So, according to my LMP, I am officially 30 weeks
today. I could be 29, or 31, or any
number of week and day combinations, but who really cares besides me and my
mother?
This past weekend The Man’s dad and grandfather came into
town to have lunch with us (and drop off some gear that we’ve been storing in
his dad’s basement), and when asked about the baby I brought out the pictures
from his ultrasound. You never realize
how unimpressive those are until you’re trying to show off your baby. “And here’s his face…It’s a little creepy…Ya,
that’s his eye…And here are two pictures of his penis. And here’s the side of his face…” Needless to say, they weren’t super
impressed. I keep trying to tell The
Man’s dad that he needs to love this baby most out of all the grandchildren
because he’ll be the first to carry on the surname, but I think he’s holding
out to see if he’ll even want to claim this creature as his grandchild. There were quite a few unclaimed pronouns in
that last sentence; I hope it made sense.
Speaking of the ultrasound, I had a realization this
morning: Stormageddon is three times the length he was when those pictures were
taken. And five times the weight. And his skin isn’t transparent anymore. So the only pictures I have of him are no
longer accurate. Ah, woe is me…too cheap
to pay for extra ultrasounds, and WAY too cheap to get a 3D one. I’m sure he’s fine and cute and all that.
I’m really learning a lot about myself through this
pregnancy. For example, I am super vain
and I’m constantly making sure the stretch marks haven’t come yet (I know, I
know, they’re coming…but I keep telling myself that maybe I’m part unicorn and
they’ll never show up). I also get
really frustrated with myself when I can’t do simple tasks: walking quickly up
hills/stairs, tying my shoes, weeding in the yard for more than fifteen
minutes, et cetera. I gave myself a
pedicure the other day; I had to stop every minute or so to sit up straight and
breathe again. And I REALLY get
frustrated when I’m confused and lost – enter the baby registry.
Guys, I seriously almost broke down crying the other night
just THINKING about putting together a list.
There are so many products out there and so many “necessities” that I’m
pretty sure I never saw my mother use…so thank you to everyone who told me to
sit back and chill because nobody knows what they’re doing the first time
around, and for the succinct lists that DIDN’T include bottle sanitizers and
wifi monitors and wipes warmers. I
needed that. And The Man thanks you for
calming his anxiety-ridden wife, even if only for a while :P
I apologize that I haven’t written about anything other than
Stormageddon for a while; it’s just that with being unemployed for the summer
and only really leaving the house to go to the gym or pick up more books from
the library I don’t really have much to contribute. Terry Pratchett is great. Rearranging furniture is cool. Aqua Zumba is quite entertaining to
watch. My cat is the bestest (she’ll
even go a whole day without biting me sometimes). Flies bring out the serial killer in me. The other day a fly landed on my belly, so I
caught him in my hand, transferred him to a tissue, and squished him until I
heard the crunch. Then I squished him a
bit more and threw him away. That was
kind of a scary moment, considering I’ve always been the type of person that
catches insects (and arachnids) in the house and then releases them into the
yard. It’s just…flies buzz around your
face. And after the hundredth time, it
gets a little old. And then
annoying. And then it makes you want to
murder.
It’s ridiculous because we try to keep our doors closed, but
we still get so many insects in the house (after my entomology course a couple
years ago I just can’t bring myself to call them bugs anymore because they’re
not all hemiptera). The other night The
Man and I both had about seven mosquito bites on our backs. Seven each.
Not counting the bites on our arms and legs. So last night when a silent mosquito landed
on The Man’s sleeve I found myself exclaiming, “it’s quiet, so it’s a
female! Kill it! Kill it!”
Dang bloodsuckers.
That’s pretty much my life now, though. A big fetus that seems to be constantly
kicking, punching, kneeing, or just sticking appendages in uncomfortable places
and pushing; an insect-infested house; way too many fantasy books (like, one
400-page book a day); low-impact workouts; and being excited to have a baby
while at the same time being terrified that it’s coming so soon. Hurrah!
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