Today is officially full term. So, out you come baby! I would like my body back, I want to run and jump and climb trees. I’m tired of not seeing my feet, not seeing certain other parts of my anatomy and instead seeing my husband’s eyes checking out other women. So, do me a huge favor bambino and mush!
Head down, towards the light buddy boy!
Tomorrow I should have a hysterical photo for you of me, and the baby belly in an orange unitard – don’t ask! that is unless I am induced, in which case you’ll have to wait!
Being in the last few weeks of pregnancy is the hardest mental game I’ve ever played. Everything is heavy, it’s hot and sticky, there are things happening to my body on a minute by minute basis that are disturbing and I’m constantly pretending that nothing unusual is going on (baby moving and kicking you in the bladder, the lungs, the kidneys, things are coming out of your body and you don’t know whether to panic or not, baby not moving and you counting the minutes panicked that he’s in distress) I’m waking up at 3 am every morning, sometimes I go back to sleep, sometimes I don’t, but every day I start work at 9. Braxton Hicks contractions happen at work, you call the doctor and she says, lie down. Where am I supposed to do that? On top of that, you deal with the hormones and not knowing whether you are overreacting when your boss asks if you’ll be joining a meeting the week after the baby is due; coworkers telling you that 12 weeks is a long time to take off to spend with your first born child. Like I said, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with. If you know someone going through this, be nice to them.
Don’t tell them they look like they’re having twins when they’re not.
Don’t joke about scaring them into labor.
Don’t tell them scary stories about labor, birth or babies.
Don’t make comments about their body.
If you are their husband or significant other, don’t make comments about their body or anyone else’s.
Don’t say anything like, almost there or not long now, or really, you still have the long? You look like you’re ready to go.
And more than anything else, if you want to continue living with all limbs and full capacity, don’t mention anything about hormones or her mood.
I have so many dreams for you.
Of course, I want you to be happy above all, but in addition I want the world to be your oyster. I hope that you do better than your dad and I in high school (we played hard but forgot to work hard), I hope that we can afford for you to go through an excellent college without debt, I hope that you travel as much as I have (but always be safe and respectful and always call your mother) and I hope that you have good and loyal friends throughout your life.
I think about the day we visit you at college. I hope that you have time for us.
I think about the day I leave you at daycare and I hope that you are cute and sweet and that the teachers will have a soft spot for you.
And every morning at 3 am I wake up and I think about the moment that they put your newborn body on my chest and we look at each other. I hope I can see you clearly through my tears.