Nesting...

It's here, and it's real.

Not to say that I don't hit a tired phase about 10 p.m., and not to say that my weighed-down body can hold up with the stamina of an athlete, BUT I have so much energy right now, I can barely stay in my chair. It's been like that all day.

You can't tell it yet by looking inside my humble abode, but this is serious. I took a day of leave tomorrow just to have more time to work on things around the house and run errands. I haven't taken a day off work for anything other than a planned event or a doctor's appointment in I can't remember when.

I'm not in a panic to get things ready. I would more accurately describe my feelings as "desperate," but in a more positive sense...like "determined" and willing to eradicate anything that gets in my way.

In a nice way, of course. :-) But fully prepared to resort to tougher measures if necessary.

Baby Banter #10, 11 and 12

Some people can make a 9-monther feel so good! I'll take these kinds of comments any day! All these came from women at work...So now you know one reason I love my job.


Passing on my way out of the bathroom:
Girl, you don't even look pregnant from behind! Turn around. [I turn around, remembering why I never participated in beauty pageants in high school.] You're all baby!

Being followed while on my way in the employee entrance door:
You don't even look pregnant from the back! You're just as narrow as you were before.

Meeting in the hall between my cubicle and the breakroom:
You are so cute! You just look fabulous. And red looks really pretty on you.


Sometimes I wonder what people will talk to me about when I no longer look like I'm smuggling a watermelon.

And then there are the looks... I wish I had a built-in camera sometimes to capture wide eyes and open mouths. Come on, people, I didn't grow that much over the weekend!

Or did I?

People say that insomnia and getting up during the night help prepare pregnant women to get up with the baby every few hours. I think God put measures in place to get dads ready, too -- mom's restlessness for one thing. When I wake up during the night, I have to get completely out of bed (which takes a few tries), flip my pregnancy pillows and three regular pillows and crawl back inside the pile before I can go back to sleep, which usually wakes Gunter. Apparently, it's been turned up a notch because he says I have started snoring.

Now he knows how I felt when we first got married.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow...

This was supposed to be my 35-week update, but I’m really not sure what week I’m updating from. Neither are my doctors.

I went in for an appointment on Thursday thinking I was 35 weeks along, but I measured 37. I guess a lot of that baby banter I had been hearing for weeks was somewhat on track:

“You look ready!”
“There’s no way you’ll make it to August 25.”
“You look like you’ve dropped.”

I don’t doubt it. Right now, they estimate the baby weighs 6.5 pounds. If she keeps growing like she has, she’ll either be born earlier than we thought, or she’ll be big. The doctor said her growth could slow down, though, putting her closer to normal size and closer to my due date. She still appears to be head-down.

In summary, she could be born anytime between today and 5 weeks from now. Yeah.

I’m thankful that she’s progressing well, but I’d like to have a better estimate than that. It’s unreal and exciting that D-Day could be so close. I learned a valuable lesson this week – only God knows when babies will be born.

I really think my doctors are more laid-back than most. They’re not at all concerned about the constant swelling in my feet because my blood pressure is good. I’ve been wearing flipflops to work lately, calling them my maternity dress sandals. But even flipflops leave marks behind when I take them off.

They’ve set my next appointment in two weeks (they almost let it slip to three, but I protested). I think I’ll keep working at least that long and maybe go on leave if the doctor thinks I’m still progressing at this rate.

As for now, I’ve realized that I need to kick the baby preparations into high gear. We have our last shower this afternoon, and after that, I’ll go on a shopping/washing/organizing/cleaning frenzy!

By the way, Gunter painted my toenails for me this morning. Next Saturday, I'll have a spa pedicure, compliments of my "twin" and her husband. If my feet continue to swell, the spa people will have quite a bit of real estate to work on.

Don't worry...

I'm still here! Yes, it's been a week since I posted, but what a busy week it's been! I'll try to update sometime this weekend. Just didn't want all three of you to worry.

Ha!

Goldilocks and the three mountains of baby clothes

Last night, Gunter found a strange woman asleep on our den floor! He even got a picture to prove it. Who does she think she is, Goldilocks? If you have any information on the identity of this woman, please call our free hotline.


Wait, isn’t that the shirt I was wearing last night?

So this was the view in our den around 10 or 10:30. (I'm afraid the view in my office has been similar several times this week, only with a desk instead of the floor.) Those items at my head? A wreath for the hospital door, a shopping cart cover and a carseat pad. At my feet? Burpcloths, bibs and blankets.

We had made piles of gifts from our shower Sunday and had gotten rid of the gift bags. I sat down on the floor to gather the blanket pile, and the last thing I remember is seeing Gunter unbox the Pack-and-Play. When he woke me up, I was aching all over and the Pack-and-Play had disappeared -- moved to its place in our room where the baby will spend at least her first few weeks…or months…

Evidently (as PawPaw Dye says), I have hit a tired stage in this third trimester. Hopefully, I can justify it as tired and not just lazy. If I want things organized and ready for the baby, the nesting phase better kick in soon. Falling asleep as soon as I sit still is also quite a hindrance to thank-you note progress.

The past few days, pretty much anything other than lying on the couch has become a chore. Including getting up after a nap on the floor.

Postpartum post

Postpartum class was quite helpful last night. I got a little woozy near the beginning, as I have during every class, but it wasn’t too bad. I really appreciated how detailed it was, including the ever-popular visual aids.

One such visual aid was a mini-Jacuzzi the hospital sends home with each patient. That’s not what they called it, but I like “mini-Jacuzzi” better. Thanks, Blue Cross! I told Gunter I would make it into a footbath for pedicures as soon as I can reach my feet again.

The nurse didn’t say anything about massages curing baby blues, but I think she assumed we already knew that.

I’m slightly concerned about not getting to eat when I’m in labor – me, the girl who eats every 2-3 hours. (Of all the things to dread, right?) Maybe the majority of my labor won’t happen from 5 a.m.-noon. That’s when I’m the hungriest. I think they don’t let you eat because they’re afraid you’ll get sick, but they don’t know that the opposite is true with me. Even worse, if you have a C section, you apparently don’t get to eat for days!

Gunter’s just going to have to find a drive-through on the way to the hospital. I’ll be sipping the last of my milkshake as we sign in.

34 weeks and now counting backwards

I am 34 weeks now, and I guess it’s about time for another pregnancy picture. My belly looks a lot bigger than this when I’m standing up.



Here’s Bailey and me in a place where I predict we’ll be spending a lot of time soon – a rocking chair from some sweet friends in Opp in Bailey’s not-quite-finished nursery. I’ll try to show more pictures when we’ve got a few things hung on the walls and one more piece of furniture in place. Gunter is working on it like crazy, but the 5,724 layers of old paint he’s scraping off are about to get the best of him.

I redeemed a birthday gift certificate yesterday and got a pregnancy massage. I was wary of the table at first because, even with an indention for my belly, I wondered if I was putting any pressure on Bailey. When I told my mom about the table made for pregnant bellies she asked, “Did yours fit?” A valid question, since mine does stick way on out there.

After I got comfortable with the table, I really enjoyed the massage. Getting up was quite an endeavor, but when I left the spa, I didn’t even feel pregnant. I felt lighter, and nothing was strained or achy. The only trouble I had was the massage oil lingering on my hippo-like feet. No matter what I did, I couldn’t keep them from slipping in my shoes. No Walmart trip for me (pun not intended). Gunter picked up groceries on his own.

In other news, I’ve not been as active with the youth this summer. We had water day a few Saturdays ago, and I did go out there, but I had a great time in the shade playing with my “twin’s” little ones in a kiddie pool instead of slip-and-slide baseball. After it was all over, Gunter tried to pull me down the slip-and-slide on my back, but I don’t think he took into account that the extra weight would not allow him to go very fast. It wasn’t a very dignified experience.

The youth went tubing on Saturday, and we decided it would not be best for me to try that, either. I couldn’t imagine how I might get into an inner tube and still breathe, though I could easily see me falling on a stump or something. Gunter made a good point about going into labor on the river and having no cell phone service. Besides that, any time over 5 minutes in the sun would have cooked me. Mom and I went shopping instead, and then I took a nap and cleaned house. Much safer, except for the cleaning the house part.

Tonight, we’re going to a postpartum class at the hospital so Gunter will know what to do with me when I turn into an all-out basketcase. I hope to find out that shoulder rubs are key in battling baby blues.

You know you're "ripe" when...

...people replace "How far along are you?" with "How much longer do you have?"

Favorite Thing #323: Sweet Tea in a Mason Jar/Southernisms

This post will double as a "favorite thing" because there is nothing better than sweet iced tea in a cold mason jar with a little lemon. Nothing! Goodness gracious.

I yanked the part below from an e-mail forward, but it totally spoke to me. I was proud to identify with every one. If you don't, well bless your heart!

Only a Southerner knows the difference between a hissie fit and a conniption fit, and that you don't "HAVE" them, you "PITCH" them.
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Only a Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip greens, peas, beans, etc., make up "a mess."
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Only a Southerner can show or point out to you the general direction of "yonder."
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Only a Southerner knows exactly how long "directly" is, as in: "Going to town, be back directly."
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Even Southern babies know that "Gimme some sugar" is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl in the middle of the table.
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All Southerners know exactly when "by and by" is. They might not use the term, but they know the concept well.
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Only a Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of solace for a neighbor who's got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken and a big bowl of cold potato salad. If the neighbor's trouble is a real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin!
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Only Southerners grow up knowing that "just down the road" can be 1 mile or 20.
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Only a Southerner both knows and understands the difference between a redneck, a good ol' boy, and po' white trash.
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No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.
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A Southerner knows that "fixin" can be used as a noun, a verb or an adverb.
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Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines, and when we're "in line," we talk to everybody!
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Put 100 Southerners in a room and half of them will discover they're related, even if only by marriage.
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Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.
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Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.
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When you hear someone say, "Well, I caught myself lookin'," you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!
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Only true Southerners say "sweet tea" and "sweet milk." Sweet tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it -- we do not like our tea unsweetened. "Sweet milk" means you don't want buttermilk.
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And a true Southerner knows you don't scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say, "Bless her heart" and go your own way.
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To those of you who are still a little embarrassed by your Southerness: Take two tent revivals and a dose of sausage gravy and call me in the morning. Bless your heart!
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And for those who are not from the South but have lived here for a long time, all y'all need a sign to hang on y'alls' front porch that reads "I ain't from the South, but I got here as fast as I could."

By all appearances...

I’ve started thinking... I have no idea what my child will look like. Really, her appearance might come as a big surprise. My features differ from Gunter’s quite a bit. I hope Bailey is gorgeous like her daddy, but I secretly want her to look at lot like me, at least enough to recognize her as mine.

Allow me to demonstrate…

Will she inherit Gunter’s sometimes blue/sometimes green eyes, or my brown ones?





Will she have a head full of dark, curly hair from the beginning…

…or will she be bald until about the age of 4, when she finally starts to grow fine, straight hair like Mama?

Bailey might even start out blonde like Uncle Benjamin or red-headed like Great-Granny Dye.

Will that trace of Cherokee skin be passed down, or will she look more like vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles?

Note the arms.

Will she inherit the athleticism and competitive spirit of grandparents, aunts and uncles, or will she be more interested in books and music?

We look forward to finding out!