Our Baby (a.k.a. Lil' Feisty):
- Is now about the size of a roasting chicken, and I know it's creepy to put a picture of a chicken up when talking about a baby, but it was the best approximation of size I could find!
- So that means that Feisty is probably close to 6 lbs. now and around 18 inches long. These estimates will become more and more useless as the last few weeks go on. At this point the only way to know is to get Feisty out and measured . . . but not just yet!
- Now has fully developed hearing and responds best to high-pitched noises.
- Continues to get bigger and bigger, which is important.
- Might feel different moving around inside me, but that's simply due to size rather than actual changes in movements.
- Am still beefing up just like that little baby, and can expect steady gain up until birth.
- Have a uterus that is now 1,000 times its original size. Holy cow!
- Continue with the all-too-frequent urination and the not-frequent-enough pooping.
- Continue with the standard aches and pains at this point--hips, back, swelling, breasts, etc.
- Might have more and more frequent Braxton Hicks as the weeks go on.
- Am starting to feel the weight of stress at this point, whether it be stress from wanting the baby to just be OUT of me or stress from having SO MUCH left to do.
- Could notice lightening (the baby dropping) at any point now.
- Am encouraged to start kick-counting regularly. This is when you count the baby's movements and hope to experience 10 distinct movements within 2 hours.
- Am steadily gaining, and may or may not hit a new *gulp* weight milestone before it's all over.
- Can't wrap my head around how much bigger my uterus is right now!
- Am used to all the pee by now.
- Am NOT used to the changes in my pooping. Not kidding, I had my first "normal for me" movement last week after about two weeks of sad and pathetic stuff and I wanted to throw a freakin' PARADE.
- Have the aches and pains that are standard for me, but they are so not a big deal compared to what some women deal with at this point. No return of nausea. No pelvis prematurely slipping apart. No hips slipping out of socket. No heartburn so painful I feel like I'm dying.
- Have had quite a few more Braxton Hicks. They're still not any more than tightness, and I'm fairly certain they're because I haven't been super diligent about my water inatke this week.
- Am getting more stressed. Just see below . . .
- A week ago, I was CONVINCED that Feisty was dropping already. Rather, I think there was a growth spurt and the lower half of my belly filled out more. Currently, I'm pretty sure no one has dropped.
- Haven't even tried kick-counting, honestly. This feisty lil' person making a home in my womb naps hard and plays hard. The quiet moments are quiet, and the squirmy moments are . . . UNSTOPPABLE. Usually dozens of movements in a very short amount of time.
So, I'm not sure exactly what to write about my discomforts, because they're not all that bad. Breast tenderness has been an issue in the last few days, definitely. I live in fear that our cat will walk across them every time he jumps into my lap. YOWZA. My sleep was AWFUL one night this week, and that was simply because we tried something different to make it easier. Turns out I absolutely HAVE to sleep on the left side of the bed.
I tried really hard to wake up early this morning. This post was started at 7:30 a.m. I was full of ambitions and goals. Now it's 11:15 and I only just worked up enough energy to finish after I woke up drooling at around 10:30. It's gotten to the point where my body simply demands naps. For the first time in our marriage I'm falling asleep before Levi--and this is the man who can fall asleep BEFORE his head hits a pillow. If I place myself in a reclined position, chances are I'll unexpectedly wake up a few hours later.
I've been stockpiling at home this last week. Anyone who knows me is aware of how strange this phenomenon is. Levi is acutely aware of it. I'm one of those who believes you should only have things in your home that you actively use or love (and if you have something that doesn't fit those categories I WILL throw it away and you will probably CRY because I have no mercy). And if you have something in your home, you only need ONE of that thing. Need to finely chop and blend? Choose either a food processor or a blender. You can't have both. Need to whip up some cookie dough or whipped cream? You can have either a stand mixer or a hand mixer. It's just foolishness to have both. Why should I care there's an unbelievable sale on whole wheat pasta this week? Our jars are currently full. I won't need more pasta for another month.
In the name of preparing for Lil' Feisty, however, I've changed my tune on a few things. There's more toilet paper in this house than two people could reasonably use in the next two months. And paper towels. And cat food. And laundry detergent. And cat litter. All that stuff seemed to me like things I should have handy at home once there's a newborn baby taking up all my extra brain space. This even included food.
So, food. It was my goal to make some freezer meals this week. This goal is now accomplished, but it was the catalyst for the WORST breakdown I've had during this pregnancy, and if you asked me whether or not I was going to make more all you'd hear would be my hysterical laughter at the absolute INSANITY of the question.
I looked up freezer meals a few weeks ago, and Levi seemed to think it was a good idea. So I decided this was the week to get them put together. To be fair, I forgot to inform Levi of my plan, and he wasn't aware that this was an idea that I was 100% set on.
I shopped for the groceries. I've never purchased so many tin cans in my life! It was going smoothly until I got home, consulted my list, and realized I'd forgotten 4 cans of chickpeas. Sigh. So out I went again to pick up those last cans. I'd later realize that I'd also forgotten some other cans of beans, but at this point I was still going strong. Slightly tired, but strong. I began by labeling all of my bags and pulling up all the necessary computer tabs. Oh, and Friends, because there was no WAY I was going to embark upon this adventure without my safety net.
It turns out that chopping vegetables for hours with a dull knife HURTS after awhile. It turns out that my eyes are defenseless against onions--even after you've already done a dozen of them. It turns out that no matter how many ways I try to angle my carrots, rounds will STILL roll off onto the floor. And I'm not a stranger to cooking, people! Levi's not the only one in this household who likes to cook and who values proper technique and preparation. I know how to hold a chef's knife. Shoot, I know that I'm suppose to USE a chef's knife to do my prep instead of a paring knife. Seriously people, if your knife blade is shorter than 6" you're using the wrong knife to dice, mince, and chop.
All that being said, my stress level was rising quite quickly as I bemoaned the sad, dull state of our knives. What could have been a quick process ended up a long and laborious chore. And I was in the middle of all of this when Levi came home from work. His response to the scene can be described as less than enthusiastic. Turns out his lack of enthusiasm and understanding was just enough to push me into real tears.
So I'm standing over the sink sniffling into the dozens of tin cans I'm trying to rinse out when I hear a loud spattering sound from behind me. As if in slow motion, I realized that I'd left my most liquidy bags OPEN and OUT on the counter as I watched one of them gracefully tilt over. Beans, corn, enchilada sauce, and tomatoes hit the floor, the splatters flying five feet in every direction. It was like a murder scene. Red streaks smeared the floor and ALL of our white walls.
I managed to leap across the room and grab the almost empty bag off the edge of the counter. I could barely see through the tears to make sure it landed in the trash can before I crumpled onto the edge of the sink, sobbing uncontrollably. Remember how I once described the different kinds of cry a person can have? Well, here was another messy cry. Loud. Ugly. Despairing.
This is the scene Levi walked into. His wife clinging to a sink and sobbing. A pile of beans and corn on the kitchen floor, and red sauce EVERYWHERE. And bless his heart, he just came right up to me, wrapped his arms around me, and said, "It's OK, sweetie. We'll get it cleaned up." Ah. Such a sweet and practical man. I continued to cry on the sink for a few more minutes while he used our dust pan to scoop up the worst of the mess. Finally, I felt like I could take a washcloth and start working on the floors and the walls. As I crawled around on my hands and knees, a fresh sob would burst forth each time I came across a new streak of red on our white walls. From behind me an all-too-familiar splattering sound began as a SECOND bag began to tip over. Thankfully, Levi was much quicker than I was with the first one, and he managed to save the large majority of that meal. Fresh sobs burst forth, and I just sat on the floor in the mess, bawling, totally empty of even the will to clean. Eventually, Levi finished all he could do with the dust pan, so he gently pried the wash cloth out of my hands and sent me away with the promise that he'd finish up.
I sat in the living room attempting to compose myself, and I succeeded in speaking a full sentence without any tears or sniffles half an hour later.
And I still had ANOTHER. FREEZER. MEAL. TO. GO.
After some talking, apologizing, reassuring, and hugs (on both ends) I managed to get that last meal done, and now we have ten meals in our deep freeze. And I am NEVER. EVER. Making another freezer meal by myself.
As I was crawling around trying to see tomato sauce through my tears, I was well-aware that this was the kind of story that makes for hilarious conversation at family get-togethers. That HERE was a story that both of us could regale people with when they ask what the hardest moment of my pregnancy was.
And maybe by the time Thanksgiving rolls around I'll be able to laugh about it . . . .
Until then, however, it was a SUPER real day yesterday.