Yesterday marked 36 weeks. Out of 40. Technically, I could go at any time. 37
weeks, my baby is considered full term. Right now, he's a preemie. Do
you realize that in less than one week, they won't even call him a preemie anymore? He
will be a full-term little man.
That's
kind of terrifying.
Stretch
marks have happened. (And keep happening.) Heart-burn comes and...
comes. Same with the nausea, and a hundred other things that are
probably off topic to talk about in public.
I
never could have guessed how badly it would hurt to do little things
like stand on my feet, roll over in bed, or even laugh. Julian,
active, healthy boy that he is, hurts me pretty regularly. He likes
pushing on my organs and shoving his backside into belly, so I'll rub
him. He also likes punching, well, *cough*, my RECTUM, when I'm
sitting in a position that he doesn't like, which is the ULTIMATE
ache. Holy crap. It hurts, in a shocking, shocking manner.
And
if we're talking about the bad things, the anxiety is pretty terrible
too. Seriously. The fact that you could blow and go into one of the
most painful experiences you will ever go through in your entire life
at any moment is a little suspenseful. Even if I go all the way to 41
weeks, that's still only 5 weeks away. I have a month until I'm
walking through the valley of the shadow of death. And you know what?
It's inevitable now. I've
been to Labor and Delivery twice, already, due to regular Braxton
Hicks, which potentially were threatening pre-term labor. You think
that that might help the anxiety, but it doesn't at all.
I've done my best to explain to Nathan how nerve-racking all of this is. The best analogy I could come up with is asking Nathan to imagine this scenario: You're going to break your femur in the next month. You don't know when, or how this is going to happen. I might roll over in bed tonight with a nightstick and break your femur while you're sleeping. You might get hit by a car in three weeks. You might trip in the parking lot at WalMart and snap that sucker right then and there. And the best part? This is inevitable. No matter WHAT, you WILL break your femur this month.
Feel better? It's pathetic,
but... I'm scared.
But
it does help that I'm officially losing my mind, in comical fashion.
Over
the last month, Nathan has informed me of several late night
conversations we have had. Sleep deprivation due to increased
bathroom breaks and painful restlessness has led me to confused late
night ramblings. I was prone to these already, mind, they're just
increasing. (Years ago I actually ate a meal with immediate and
extended family, and went an entire night in a completely
semi-conscious state. I don't remember any of it. I only remember my
mom yelling at me the next day for being rude at dinner. Probably
because I was asleep...)
Nathan
often stays up to read, in bed, when I go to sleep, so he gets to
hear a lot of it.
Apparently,
quite regularly, I remind myself that I need to go to sleep. When I'm
already asleep. I've also questioned my husband about why he is
scared or upset when he has said or implied nothing of the sort.
Just
a few nights ago, I caught myself in one of my late night ramblings.
With Easter around the corner, I guess I have candy on my mind. I'm
not sure what started it, but I was telling Nathan ALL about Peeps. I
came to my senses as I had rolled over to him, and was "squishing"
a Peep with my hand, showing him how soft they can be, when you
microwave them...
And
probably a week ago, Nathan tells me that I was very upset, in bed.
When he asked me what was wrong, in all sincerity, I told him that I
DID NOT want to go to Youth Conference. They would make me work too
hard, and I didn't want to work anymore. I didn't EVER want to go to
Youth Conference. They would make us build fences and buildings, and
I couldn't do it. I was too tired. Nathan assured me that we wouldn't
have to go.
I've
giggled myself into hysteria in the bathroom, getting ready for bed,
over memories of the bigfoot from A Goofy Movie. I've turned to
Nathan seconds after rolling over in sleep with upset concerns about
"the baby falling out of a chair." Honestly, I wish I could
be there. Nathan regularly asks, "Do you remember anything from
last night?" Usually no. And sometimes, only vaguely.
It
will be exciting to see what sleep deprivation does to me as a
mother...
Kind
of happening too quickly, and kind of couldn't happen fast enough.
