It's March! The baby is full-term! My feet are the size of Nebraska! It's still snowing! I haven't slept in a week! Insomnia is a real thing. I am completely irrational and full of tears at all times. The contractions and false labor are starting to drive me crazy. I am so huge that I had to lay down to catch my breath after pulling my boots on this morning. Speaking of feeling and being huge, a girl in the office bathroom looked at me the other day and said, "So, when were you due?"
When was I due? Excuse me? What makes you think I'm even pregnant?
I told her I have three more weeks and then waddled out of the bathroom while she wiped the surprised look off her face. The looks of sympathy abound whenever I slowly traverse the office on the way to and from the bathroom, which is roughly 57 times a day. I walk through a gauntlet of "hang in there!" "almost there!" "you're so close!" while I grunt a response like a dying cow.
I am almost there. This is both a good thing and a bad thing.
Allow me to elaborate.
Reasons this baby needs to come out now:
+ Have you ever had a human crawl inside your abdomen and then violently elbow you as if they're avenging someone's death?
+ The end-of-pregnancy OB appointments. Am I being punished for something?! Traumatizing.
+ The insatiable need to chew on ice chips will no longer force me to dig through the ice tray of the freezer in the middle of the night.
+ My feet will fit in shoes other than my Uggs.
+ I'm getting tired of wearing the same three shirts and the one remaining pair of maternity jeans that don't suffocate my abdominals. A closet full of clothes I can wear? WHAT IS THIS BLISS?!
Reasons she needs to stay put forever:
+ Anything with the word "postpartum."
+ The stove burners haven't been cleaned and the baseboards haven't been vacuumed yet. If that doesn't get done, I'm convinced that when they hand her to me for the first time, all I'll be able to think is "this is nice, but I would enjoy it more if my baseboards were clean."
In other news, I have advice for all women of a child-bearing age: if at all possible, do everything in your power to not be 9 months pregnant when your driver's license expires.
Ask me how I know this.
Never mind, I'll tell you.
Google a picture of a blowfish.
Moving on. I've bonded with a fellow pregnant girl at work. She's only 5 months along, and when she told me she's uncomfortable already I had to bite my tongue until it was bleeding to not scream OH JUST YOU WAIT. But she's nice, and whenever I see her we compare symptoms and trade stories like boys with baseball cards. She asked me the other day if I'm nesting, and I said LET ME TELL YOU 'BOUT MY NESTING. That should've been her cue to end the conversation. My urges are as strong as ever, but my body has quit on me after February, when I spent every night setting up the nursery and cleaning and organizing and making lists of what to clean and organize and set up next. I'm still antsy to reorganize the bookshelves and re-purge my dresser and closet. My mom is bringing me a hand-held vacuum so I can clean the baseboards and whatever else my heart desires. I won't tell you that I'm more excited about using it than I am about my birthday. I've requested several books from the library on purging and organizing. Cleaning is still the wind beneath my wings.
But my nesting has taken a turn.
Into homemade/natural skin products and cleaning supplies.
I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I've dabbled in it here and there over the years, but now I want to sample everything at Lush and there is currently a pound of unrefined shea butter sitting in my amazon shopping cart.
I spent 2 hours last night googling homemade laundry detergent and trying to figure out if Borax really is bad for you. And do I even care? And maybe I should use white vinegar as a fabric softener?
I've gone off the deep end.
I've also been embroidering like you wouldn't believe. There's a chance it's my calling in life. I woke up at the jolly hour of 6am on Sunday and started to teach myself to crochet. There are approximately 57 knitting patterns that have me foaming at the mouth, but have you seen the price of yarn these days? Mom, will you share?
So many ideas and so little energy. Such swollen ankles that ache as though I'm wearing the shackles of despair.
I think I'm getting loopy.
That's where I am these days. Tired, sore, and worrying every second I'm at work that my water is about to break in front of everyone. And then coming home and trying to bribe the cat to clean for me. My mind says go clean, but my body says Chipotle and Netflix. And I'm not one to be disagreeable.