Friday, November 6, 2015

Week by Week: 39 Weeks

Our Baby (a.k.a. Lil' Feisty): 
  • Is now the stereotypical birthing size: IT'S WATERMELON TIME!
  • Might have nails that extend past the fingertips. 
  • Continues to grow even though we're both aware that space is now severely limited!
  • Could truly be any size at this point, and an ultrasound right now would not actually give an accurate indication of that size. The margin of error is well over A POUND in either direction. That's a lot of possibilities. 
I (traditionally): 
  • Have hit the "GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME" point. 
  • Have more heartburn, hemorrhoids, pelvic pain, etc., and it's just going to increase. 
  • Feel an even more intense urge to nest as each day goes on. 
  • Have a sudden desire to cram in every possible food and activity I can before the baby arrives. 
  • Haven't gained any more weight even though baby is still growing. 
  • Should actually just take it easy at this point. 
I (actually): 
  • Am SUPER ready to hold Feisty in my arms, but I'm still not hating being pregnant. I will say that I'm beginning to cool on it because, seriously, if I have to hike up these darn jeans in public one more time I'm going to die of embarrassment. 
  • Heartburn is spotty. No hemorrhoids, but we'll talk more about those after Feisty is born. Pelvic...discomfort might be a better term. Feisty manages to hit nerves I never even knew I had and it feels.....weird. 
  • Want more ways to nest!! If I have to hang around the house waiting at this point I just want something to do that will prepare for Feisty's arrival. 
  • Really want to get some things in before Feisty is here. I want a date with Levi. I want to go out to my favorite Mexican place in town one more time. I want to make myself some of my favorite pastas before I'm no longer in charge of my own lunches for awhile. I want one more donut because I won't be able to grab one from the grocery bakery for weeks once Feisty arrives. 
  • Stopped gaining weight this week, but not before the scale tipped one pound over and landed me squarely on 200 lbs. Gaahhhh! That's a grand total of 40 lbs. gained--and yes, go ahead and do the math to figure out where I started. 
  • Mostly take it easy. Despite all of the things I still want to do, I spend a lot of time resting and putting my feet up. 

The nursery is finished, y'all! It feels clean and livable, and I just want to spend all my time up there. The story of HOW it got that way is found below. Naturally, it came from a freak-out moment. 

Ok. So Feisty keeps growing. It's just what happens at this point. The only problem with that is that my short torso can't quite keep up with the demand at this point. The stretch marks are now in a ring around the belly button, and I could SWEAR that I can feel my skin actually breaking apart as Feisty keeps growing. It may be all in my head, but there's this peculiar tingling and prickling sensation on the skin of my stomach every now and then. And lotion-schmotion. Nothing can stop the stretching process now. 

I finally checked out my first books on breastfeeding from the library. While they were encouraging, they were also extremely biased. Obviously, you would expect some bias from a book about breastfeeding, but they were pretty harsh at some points. I really feel like I can stick with it and make it work for Feisty, but no wonder so many women feel like such failures if they can't. It's totally logical that the best and most natural thing for a baby is the milk their own species makes, but these books really do make you feel like you're doing irreparable, lifelong harm to your child if you give them even on bottle of formula. 

You'd think all of that would make me anxious, but it actually makes me feel better. All I want is a healthy baby and a healthy ME. And this includes my mental state. And if I get the the point of a mental breakdown because breastfeeding is so hard, then I'm telling myself right now that I can give myself a break. A small break or a big break, who knows, but a break nonetheless. And as I've found the more I look into baby books and parenting books, it's pretty hard to feel like you can do that sometimes. Everyone contradicts everyone else--even research is skewed and manipulated so much that it's hard to know what it all actually MEANS. 


I came across the best advice yet in an article about an African woman who returned to her roots to raise her baby. She kept asking her grandmother for advice about her baby, and her grandmother kept telling her the same thing: 

Read your baby, not books. 

*Sigh of relief*

Freak-Out Moments:

Ok. So, last night my Braxton Hicks were holding steady at about 8 minutes apart for an hour or so, and I was suddenly SURE that it was time to get things in order. Dirty dishes? Can't leave those out if we're going to the hospital. Leftovers? They'll go bad unless we get them in containers and in the fridge NOW. The guest bathroom? That toilet needs to be cleaned because obviously my parents will be using it by tomorrow night. The nursery? MUST REMOVE ALL TOOLS AND CLEAN IT AND PUT THE FURNITURE WHERE IT BELONGS AND MUST DO IT ALL NOWWWWW!

And Levi, bless that man, went along with it. At 11:30 p.m. he lugged a 100 lb. air compressor down a flight of stairs and back out to the garage. In the rain. He vacuumed up sawdust and debris from the nursery carpet. He moved the furniture back to where it belongs. He took some supplies and materials all the way out to our shed. 

And I didn't even have to ask him to do all those things. He merely saw that insane gleam in my eyes, asked just how focused I was at this point (on a scale of 1-10 I was a Lesley Knope), and knew exactly what to do. Seriously, y'all, I married the best of the best. 

I did plenty of chores myself, and working together, we got that room whipped into shape in no time. I finished some of the smaller organizational tasks this morning, and now the room feels clean and inviting. I want to go sit in it right now, honestly. And Feisty isn't even going to live in that room for months! But I don't care. I wanted it done before Feisty's arrival, and now that it is I feel like labor is welcome to start whenever it wants! Let's go, Feisty! Come out and meet your mom and dad!


Will there be another post next week? Who knows?!


Keep it real, 

No comments:

Post a Comment