This Sunday I’ll be 39 weeks pregnant. Can you believe it? I can’t believe it. When you mark time in weeks, as during pregnancy, it somehow passes both more and less quickly. At 7 weeks you can’t imagine getting to 13; at 15 you can’t wait for 26; at 30, 40 seems so far away.
So here I am, 34 weeks after finding out I was pregnant with the end of this pregnancy experience looming… and feeling a lot like doom, who am I kidding?
At home things are going pretty well. My husband has kicked *ss in the getting things done department, as have I, so the nursery is finished (barring one project I’m just figuring will never get done) and the house stays mostly clean, most of the time. (We’re still us, after all.)
At work things are less under control, but that’s just how work goes. My team is prepped as well as they’ll ever be and I’ve been backing away from the decision-making to let them practice.
All this to say that I’m not impatient for this kid to join us, but I’m not feeling totally patient, either. In the middle of a particularly frustrating work meeting I’ll think, “If I happened to go into labor right now, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this!” While sitting in the nursery to rest after doing some organizing this evening, I thought, “Maybe we should wish for this to just all get started already.” I have Hypnobabies tracks I can’t manage to finish without falling asleep, naps to take, emails to send, and little things to accomplish, sure, but the big stuff is finished.
I made enough food for 16 meals yesterday. We’re as ready as we’re likely to ever be.
But honestly? I’m not impatient. I think the little dude should have as much time to grow as he wants. At this point, he seems to know far more than I do about what it takes to create a kid, so I’m trusting him. When he’s ready, we’ll know. Until then, we’ll wait.
In the meantime, second-guessing every odd pang and extra trip to the potty is fun, right?
I have to ask: did anyone else’s Braxton Hicks make it hard for them to breathe? I don’t mind the muscular contraction part, but the part where my head throbs like someone’s trying to suffocate me is less cool. Hypnobabies suggests I look forward to any kind of contraction (ahem, surge or whatever I’m supposed to call it) as a sign of progress (even a BH indicates my body is getting ready), but it’s a little difficult when I feel like I might pass out.
Thanks for your answers. I’m avoiding Googling.