Sunday, November 3, 2013

In which I totally use my daughter's expressiveness to describe these last few weeks of pregnancy

On Wednesday I will hit official full term with this pregnancy. 37 weeks. I don't expect to have this baby for at least a few more weeks, but it is reassuring to hit the point where the baby is considered full term (even if "early term").

I haven't said a lot about this pregnancy because
1. I'm too busy with the two I already have to sit around pontificating about each day of pregnancy
2. There isn't a lot to say

Every ultrasound and checkup has been healthy, normal, and spot on with growth. But I guess because of my history of my first "perfect" pregnancy with Addison turning into a lot of unexpected health needs after she was born- I tend to face pregnancy with a lot of anxiety. Especially this time around. Probably because it wasn't necessarily a planned thing for us and I hate not feeling in control- even though I know all too well that I am certainly not in control of the babies that we are blessed with.

That being said- I am very eager to meet this baby. I am ready to move onto the next stage of adjusting to 3. I am ready to move out of this emotional and physical fog that I find myself in, and I am ready to be able to bend over and pick up my kids' toys and books again and just generally stay on top of my responsibilities without needing a nap every half an hour.

I feel less prepared for this baby than I ever have for the other two. Because the tots are daily ripping up the house, I haven't set out all of the baby stuff yet. I don't want it to be coughed on, trampled, and toddler tested before the new baby even gets here. (Side note: don't wish that for the baby either...)

I find my emotions all over the place these days.

When I have a great afternoon with my two amazing children, I'm all like:
But then when they strip down and pee all over their rooms, empty large boxes of cereal in the kitchen, and unfold the large pile of laundry that I spent the last hour on...I am all like:
When they give me sweet hugs and kisses and show that they DO understand our lessons on "pick up" and "wash" and "put away", I'm like:
But then when they spill the cup of coffee I had been lusting after for hours after getting up multiple times the night before with disobedient tots because apparently "toddler bed" now means "get-up-and-eat-Rice-Krispie-treats-at-1:30am bed", I'm like:
When Daddy gets home early and helps lift the two 30 pound weights in and out of the bathtub and then into clean sleepers, I'm like:
But then when I settle in on the couch to finally rest at the end of a long day but they refuse to actually fall asleep in their rooms requiring that I get up and down and up and down and up and down ten million times to help bedtime actually happen, I'm like:
When they finally fall asleep which means that I can have a restful evening and then go to sleep myself, I'm all like:
But then when I feel like my body has decided that it will be pregnant forever and will start imploding any second, I'm like:
And when the housework starts to suffocate me, I'm all like:
But when my work is done for ten minutes, the children are happy and cooperative, a delicious dinner is simmering on the stove, I remember that I'm going to meet my new baby soon, and I'm all like:
But then for no reason at all, I'm all like:
And the cycle starts all over again. I blame pregnancy hormones. And the fact that toddler evil is hidden by such cuteness and everyone else is surprised when I even whisper of the behaviors that we are working through right now.
Anyway...where was I?

Oh yes. 37 weeks pregnant. Please come soon, little baby boy.

p.s. please excuse picture fuzziness. These types of pictures can only be snapped on the cell phone in the heat of the moment. No posing here. 

Like peanut butter on the fingers of a curious toddler, this post is begging to be shared.

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