|33 Weeks, 3 Days|
Baby Girl Baker has been doing well. She continues to kick (and punch and flip) up a storm. Miles has caught on to this, and one of his favorite things now is to push on my belly and tell his “seester” to move. He really is in love with her. He’s constantly wanting to “snuggle” with the baby, “feed” the baby a cracker”, and talk to her. The other day he told me she said she was hungry for a cracker. All bets are off when the baby actually arrives and he realizes just what a baby really entails, but for now he’s into it.
I, on the other hand, have been having an interesting ride. This pregnancy is so very different from my first. I don’t know if it’s because I’m having a girl instead of a boy, or just that every pregnancy is unique, but it baffles me sometimes. I’ve had quite a lot of Braxton Hicks since very early in this pregnancy. Never one to slow down, I’ve had to be more cautious and aware, as they seem to come on when I’ve overdone it.
The weekend before last we were very close to going up to the hospital. I was having a lot of Braxton Hicks (sometimes more than 6 in an hour), plus some very strange cramping. Thankfully, after gallons of water, tons of epsom salt baths, tylenol, and pretty much laying down all weekend, they subsided.
Last Tuesday I had a normal checkup scheduled anyways, and they decided to make sure I wasn’t showing any signs of labor. Much to my relief, I wasn’t. The doctor just chalked it up to every pregnancy being different and said this one might just be harder.
So, since then I’ve just been extra careful about not overdoing it. I’ve also upped my protein intake, and am carrying a quart-size mason jar around with me to make sure I’m getting at least a gallon a day of water. So far, it seems to be helping.
I’ll leave you with a picture I took last Thursday at 26 weeks. I am SO big compared to last time. It’s pretty much all belly…just a really big belly.
Here’s a comparison from 27 (almost 28 weeks) with Miles and 26 weeks with Baby Girl Baker:
Linking up with Mommy Moments at The Life of Faith:
About a week late, but wanted to share with you that we had our anatomy scan and it’s a…
Or, if you don’t want to watch the whole video, just look at the candy color:
Yep, still waiting.
Monday at the doctor’s I was finally dilated to about 1 cm. So, I guess all these weeks of prodromal labor haven’t been for naught! For a while, I felt like I would be pregnant forever. You know, I would just keep having contractions and baby would never come. Honestly, I don’t think my doctor even believed that I was having contractions as frequently as I said I was. Monday, though, when then nurse practitioner went to check Baby B’s heartbeat, she asked me if I was having a contraction because my belly was pretty tight. After a bit it loosened up, and she was pretty sure I had had one. Only thing is, I didn’t feel a thing.
Apparently this surprised her enough to put me on the fetal monitor for a bit, and, sure enough, I was having frequent, albeit varying and sporadic, contractions! Baby didn’t seem to be showing any signs of distress, though, even when I had a really long hard contraction. He was bouncing all over while I lounged in a big, comfy recliner, drinking a Mountain Dew they gave me to wake Baby B up. How many times in your life do you get to do that at a doctor’s office?
The other good news is that he’s all down in position! His head is wedged down as far as it can go, which is pretty remarkable since he’s still kicking me in the ribs. Yeah, in case you had any doubts about this baby being tall! The nurse practitioner thought it could be any day now. My doctor doesn’t get back until Monday, but at this point I really don’t care that much. I am ready!
So, anyway, here I am…waiting for baby to come. All my out-of-the-house work has pretty much ended since I had to train someone to fill my place, so I’m finding some pretty boring days on my hands. If it wasn’t so stinking hot outside, or if we lived anywhere remotely close to a mall, I’d probably be walking all the time. Here I am, though, stuck in the middle of cow country during one of the hottest summers on record. Thank the Lord for air conditioning. In my house at least.
I have learned something very important about myself: I don’t just “chill” very well. I thought I would enjoy these last few days, having the free time to relax, watch the Olympics, or read a good book. Really, though, sitting on the couch just makes me feel like I’m sick. I don’t like being sick. Therefore, lounging on the couch is not working for me. Also, you can only clean your house so many times. Last week I even vacuumed the walls in our bedroom. I think it was more out of sheer boredom than compulsive nesting.
So, anyway, hopefully the next time you hear from me it will be with a birth announcement. That, or another whiny post about waiting. Oh, but scratch that…in all my bored free time I’ve been contemplating some pretty deep things about life and God. So, be looking for a post tomorrow that is totally, mind-bogglingly philosophical. If you don’t find it thus, please disregard it as the random ramblings of a emotional pregnant woman, two days away from her due date.
One of my friends told me she thought the baby was coming last Thursday. All day, Andy asked me how I was “feeling”, and whether the baby was coming. Well, no such luck (and still none!).
Surprisingly, he doesn’t really seem nervous. Last week on the way to my 37-week check-up, he said he wished the baby would just come that day. He’s just so ready for our little man to be here!
With all the “advice” he’s been getting, I’m surprised he’s anything but dreading the baby getting here. It seems like every father (and many mothers) have been telling him the same things. Your life as you know it is over. You’ll never get any sleep again. Ready to be put on the back burner? Your baby won’t seem like a blessing that first year. You’ll never be able to do anything fun or spontaneous ever again. Say good-bye to date nights and days golfing with your buddies. Frankly, to both Andy and I, the negative “advice” is getting old. I mean, we know all about the hard things about having a baby…can someone please start telling us the good?!
Somehow, though, it all seems vaguely familiar. Remembering back, it was these same men who told Andy what a burden marriage would be, how he’d never get to do anything fun again, and how a wife would just nag him all the time. Those comments got old too…and fast. Ironically, none of those things they predicted came true. Today, Andy would tell you that we enjoy a wonderful, fulfilling, and fun marriage. Sure, marriage is a lot of responsibility and hard work…but it’s a much bigger blessing.
Even still, it’s amazing to see how excited he is for Baby B to be here. It seems like every spare minute he spends fixing or making something, all for the sake of his sweet little boy. He wants everything ready.
What he doesn’t see, though, is how his heart is getting ready…and that’s the biggest blessing to me. It seems like each day that passes, he falls more-and-more in love with the little man we have yet to meet. I see his heart softening and his perseverance strengthening. I am so thankful for a man who has no fear of smelly diapers or sleepless nights. He doesn’t worry about never getting to do anything fun again, or being placed on the “back burner”. Instead, he is incredibly thankful for this blessing due to arrive any day now.
Yes, he knows that life will change. He knows that parenthood will be full of work and frustration. Yet, he also knows that it will be full of unspeakable blessings that far outweigh the bad. Just like marriage, parenthood is all in how you see it. There will always be hard times and trials, but will you choose to dwell on them and make mountains out of mole hills? Or, will you choose to focus on the good?
It’s a blessing to watch this transformation of my man into a daddy. Becoming a daddy isn’t scary to him…because he chooses to embrace the good.
Somehow I got it in my head that this baby was coming early. I’ve had several friends guess that he’d come early, and I just had that feeling. I know, I know…I’m just suffering from what every new mom suffers from: wishful thinking.
To be fair, I’ve been having more-and-more contractions the last week or so. I can tell my body is readying itself for this baby to come.
Thursday night Andy and I went for a walk at the park, and I started having pretty intense contractions that were coming pretty close together. We went home to relax on the couch, and see if they slowed down at all. They didn’t, and we started timing. They were coming exactly 5 minutes and 40 seconds apart. Regularly. We started to freak out a bit. Just before we got to an hour of timing them, they just…stopped. It was like they just dropped off the edge of the canyon.
Honestly, I was a little relieved. As much as I wanted the baby to come, I didn’t feel quite ready. Once faced with the prospect of labor and motherhood, I kind of panicked.
Still, I expected the baby to come in the next few days. Or at least the next week. We’ve been walking down at the park almost every single night, trying to get the ball rolling. I firmly believe that Baby B will come when he was ready. But it couldn’t hurt to give him a push, could it?
Yesterday morning I was bound and determined to get baby to come. I had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, and I desperately wanted her to say the blessed “h” word (hospital). First thing in the morning I went to the park and walked and walked and walked. And…nothing. Then I went home and bounced on my exercise ball. Still nothing.
I had a few contractions on the way to the doctor’s, but, sadly, no luck. Not a bit dilated. My doctor will be gone next week, and she was pretty confident that she’d see me in two weeks time. Yep, I’ll be 40 weeks and 3 days by then.
I’ve pretty much resolved myself to baby being late. It really won’t be the end of the world. I know most babies come late, especially firstborns. Also, baby coming late means my doctor will be there. And, like I’ve said before, Baby B will come when he’s good and ready.
So, anyway, as disappointed as I was, I’ve decided to make the best of it. I’ve working on a little “bucket list” of sorts, of things I want to do in the next few weeks before Baby B makes his appearance. Top of the list? Sleep. 🙂
I’m now 37 weeks (38 tomorrow!) along in my pregnancy. It’s hard to believe that, at any time now, our sweet little man could make his entrance. Each day it seems like there are more signs that my body is preparing for labor. My Braxton-Hicks are really picking up and intensifying, and I can feel him pressing down farther-and-farther. My joints seem to get looser by the day. Monday at my doctor’s appointment, I had started to efface a little, although there was still no dilation. That night, however, I lost a little bit of my mucous plug.
It’s easy to get uptight or anxious or impatient for his arrival, especially when you don’t know the exact day he’ll come (or how he’ll come). I know that most babies from first-time moms don’t come until around 41 weeks. I know, too, that not too long after that my doctor will be pushing for an induction. With an induction, a lot of my hopes of as natural a birth as possible go out the window.
Then there’s the fact that my doctor will be gone the week leading up to (and, in fact on my due date), leaving me to the fate of whatever doctor is on call. But I guess I’ll be left to a random doctor should this baby choose to come on the weekend, as well.
There’s the possibility of baby coming earlier. On Sunday one of my friends told me she thought the baby was coming this Thursday. Honestly, as much as I’m ready for him to come at any time, that does seem a bit early. Now throw in all the “unknowns” about how labor will happen and progress, or if something will go wrong, and I could easily be a nervous wreck.
Surprisingly, though, I’m not. I really feel at peace about everything, even with all the questions and “play-it-by-ear”-ness of the next couple of weeks. The fact of the matter is, I don’t have control nor can I ever have it. There’s no way I can know when he’ll come, or how, or what will happen.
But God knows. He’s known from the beginning, and all is in His hands. For the last nine months, He’s taken the tiniest life and formed it, carefully and meticulously, into the precious little man we now eagerly await. He’s kept him safe for that long, so can’t He be trusted to bring him into this world in His perfect timing and way?
Yes, the next few weeks are kind of up in the air. I never know how many meals ahead to plan, or if I should obsess about keeping the floor and sink clean. I don’t know how to form my to-do lists for the week, or what I should plan on getting done before baby is born. Yet, two things I do know: First, that at the end of this, sweet Baby Baker will be in my arms. Second, that God is faithful and good, and that His plan is perfect.
As my sister says, “Every baby should get to choose their own birthday.” Thankfully, God knows when that birthday is.
Baby B is so close to being here…I can hardly believe it! It’s hard to believe that in a few short weeks (or less…eek!), we’ll be holding our little one in our arms. Being at 36 weeks, however, I have a few confessions to make:
Confession: I’ve been really lax on my whole “working out and eating good” plan the past few weeks. I keep blaming Andy for not bringing the elliptical back in (it got relegated to the carport when we put carpet in a few weeks back), but honestly I’ve just been tired. And very unmotivated.
Confession: I’ve been using my having a hard time gaining weight and measuring small as an excuse to pretty much be a pig. Not exactly the best way to put on weight, I know.
Confession: I’ve been melting a small amount of dark chocolate, stirring in honey and peanut butter, and then eating it…plain. Those things are all healthy, right?
Confession: I’ve also been drinking sugary sodas on occasion. I’m not a big soda or sugar person, so I don’t know where this bad habit came from. It’s definitely got to stop.
Confession: I’ve kind of been using being pregnant as an excuse to sleep a tad later during the week. Hey, it’s a good reason.
Confession: As much as I really do love being pregnant, I’m ready to be done. I’m ready to stop waddling and be done with rib pain. I’m ready to be able to hike and be active again. I’m ready to stop having people tell me I shouldn’t lift a milk jug. Oh, and I’m so ready for our little man to be here!
I’m realizing more and more how much of a control freak I am. I think I get it from my mom. She always had a certain way to do anything, from the dishes to chores, and we learned pretty quickly that to make her happy, we had to do them her way.
I always thought I was more laid back than her, but I’m really not. One of the reasons I rarely ask Andy for help with cleaning or cooking is that, as much as I hate to admit it, I want the control. I want to be able to do it my way on my time. I could say that I’m just being nice or that I like to do everything because he’s so busy. The truth of the matter, however, is that I just don’t want him to do it anyway other than my way. (Can anyone else relate?)
Case in point, every time one of my sisters comes to visit I invariably have to tell them how to “do” the dishes or clean something because they just aren’t doing it right. Completely silly, I know.
So, as you can imagine, this baby on the way has brought to the surface even more of my controlling tendencies. The first is at work, and the second is at home. I’m finding myself having a really hard time handing over my duties at work to someone else. When I first started at the Ironworks I had to sort through the mess that someone else left behind, organize it, and figure out a new and better system. Oh, and did I mention that wasn’t my area of expertise? The closest experience I had to anything related to accounting, accounts payable, customer service, or customer statements was an accounting course I took in college to satisfy a requirement. And, I got the lowest grade of any college class in that one.
Anyway, somehow I learned as I went, figured everything out, and then decided to move on to a job in the field I actually studied (elementary ed). Big mistake. The gal they hired to replace me, and whom I had spent many hours training, had everything back in a shambles within the course of two weeks. So, she got fired and I came back to reorganize everything…again.
Since that time, well over a year ago, I’ve been the accounts payable person at the Ironworks, among a myriad of other odd jobs. Surprisingly, the job I hated in the beginning I soon grew to love. The hours were flexible, it wasn’t full-time, and I had the accounts payable process down to an art. A fine art. Only problem was, I knew that at some point (hint: when baby made his appearance), I’d have to train someone else to do my job and hope that they didn’t mess it up again. This time, I wasn’t coming back…I was transitioning into being a stay-at-home mom.
Really, I’ve been blessed. They ended up hiring a really great gal to replace me. I’ve been so surprised by how quickly she’s picked everything up. Honestly, she has it even more organized than I did. Because of her, I’m learning that I don’t have to control everything for it to run smoothly. I need to let things go, release the reins, and stop worrying. Now, if only I could learn that at home!
One of the only things that’s been worrying me most about this baby coming is what’s going to happen to my house chores. I know that there will be plenty of people willing to pitch in. Only, being completely honest here, I don’t want them to. Why? Because they won’t “do” everything the way I would, that’s why! I’m just sure that somebody will use some chemical I’d never use, break my vacuum cleaner, or just “mess up” my “process”.
Just the other day I told Andy to make sure that nobody put my good knives in the dishwasher. One time I had a relative run my good bread knife through their dishwasher, and it’s never been the same since. I told him that, other than that, everything should be fine. Oh, but not to put my pots and pans in there either. Or let anything be touching. Or put soap in my cast iron skillet. Or…well, you get the picture. Not that Andy doesn’t already know these “preferences” on my part. I just want to make sure that he makes sure everyone else does.
Am I the only woman who feels this way? How did I live so long without realizing my controlling tendencies? Am I really that bad?
If someone knows how to fix this problem of mine, please speak up quickly. In the back of my mind I’m desperately afraid that everyone is going to suddenly realize me for the controlling weirdo that I am.