Mini's room is painted! Now we can finally begin the "should the diaper pail go here, or here?" and "how in the frack does she already have so much stuff??" phase begins. I must say I am very relieved. There's just something about not having the changing pad set up that was making me kind of pregnant-style crazy. I know. I could change her on a blanket on the bed, or floor, or couch. Or anywhere really. But still.
Speaking of crazy... It's a huge understatement that these last nine months have been humbling.
I don't think I realized before how much I was used to going all day long, getting so many multiple things done. These days I have grand plans to do just a few things (things that normally should just take the energy of your typical tortoise). Here's the problem: I even find it tiring to walk from one store to another if they are not right next to each other. The other day Casey got his hair cut and I had about half an hour to kill. Target and Ulta are all the way across the (in my defense, very large) parking lot. Because I'm a (*cue sarcasm font*) pregnancy ninja, I walked all the way across the lot. Also, because I'm kinda in love with Ulta.
Later I felt like I had run a marathon. Or, should I say, waddled a marathon? I promised myself I'd never waddle if I got pregnant. Yet... here I am. I blame the Braxton Hicks contractions. Let's just say, we aren't super besties.
I'm now 36 (and change) weeks. Really-- Mini could come any time. You can't predict or control what the little girl will do. "Get used to it," I can hear you veteran parents saying.
Again... humbling and a bit crazy-making for this planner personality.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Now This Is For Reals, Episode 3: Pre-Registering at the Hospital?!?
Nothing says "This is really happening" like pre-registering at the hospital for labor and delivery.
It's kind of a pretty hospital, right? (I wonder if there's a Starbucks.) I have been going to my OB visits right next door to this hospital for most of my pregnancy. In fact, there is a sign right next to office door that says, "Main Hospital" with an arrow pointing to the right. That gives me a strange sense of security when I walk in for some reason. It's like having an extra towel at the pool. Probably won't need it but it's nice to have it there just in case.
So last night we pre-registered online for the birth of Mini. I'm hoping this gets us out of filling out any paperwork when the time comes. Because really? Paperwork while you're in labor? To quote Brian Regan (in his case, referring to the lack of valet parking for emergency at the hospital): "If that isn't the biggest oversight in the universe..."
Pre-registration means I'm ACTUALLY planning to birth this child. And... something about that part isn't quite real yet. I've gotten used to the bump, I've gotten used to the exhaustion, and I've almost gotten used to not being able to dance like I used to. I'm not used to the idea of the whole giving birth thing. It's like trying to imagine riding a rainbow unicorn over the ocean to the magical land of Narnia. Part of me is saying, "Nah. That will never happen."
I know, she has to be born somehow and somewhere, right? But making plans to enter the hospital for this very purpose makes the thought flash through my brain once again: "NOW this is for reals."
 |
| The hospital we pre-registered at for Mini's birth. |
It's kind of a pretty hospital, right? (I wonder if there's a Starbucks.) I have been going to my OB visits right next door to this hospital for most of my pregnancy. In fact, there is a sign right next to office door that says, "Main Hospital" with an arrow pointing to the right. That gives me a strange sense of security when I walk in for some reason. It's like having an extra towel at the pool. Probably won't need it but it's nice to have it there just in case.
So last night we pre-registered online for the birth of Mini. I'm hoping this gets us out of filling out any paperwork when the time comes. Because really? Paperwork while you're in labor? To quote Brian Regan (in his case, referring to the lack of valet parking for emergency at the hospital): "If that isn't the biggest oversight in the universe..."
Pre-registration means I'm ACTUALLY planning to birth this child. And... something about that part isn't quite real yet. I've gotten used to the bump, I've gotten used to the exhaustion, and I've almost gotten used to not being able to dance like I used to. I'm not used to the idea of the whole giving birth thing. It's like trying to imagine riding a rainbow unicorn over the ocean to the magical land of Narnia. Part of me is saying, "Nah. That will never happen."
I know, she has to be born somehow and somewhere, right? But making plans to enter the hospital for this very purpose makes the thought flash through my brain once again: "NOW this is for reals."
Thursday, August 7, 2014
"Now This Is For Reals," Episode Two: My Couch Has Attachment Issues
In my series illustrating that this is indeed for now "reals," I come to my second installment.
The couch.
It seems my energy level and the couch are in cahoots. There are days that I am not sick, I am not injured, I am not in the Twilight Zone, but I am physically unable to do much of anything but be on the couch doing various things. Might have something to do with low blood sugar (as my diet is constantly changing, I feel like I'm running to keep up with its new needs everyday), my slight anemia (already being treated for it), or just plain growing a human. While on the couch it's super fun to feel Mini's movement though, so not all is lost. It's like God is giving me these "no energy" days to have quiet moments to feel what she's up to.
Through these times, my green couch has become a good friend. However, friends can sometimes be dangerous if they get too close. Specifically, the couch seems to be the jealous type-- it physically sucks me into itself and won't let me get up. I'm thinking of hiring a psychotherapist to come over and talk to it about its issues.
It doesn't change the fact I need it though, so it's a complicated relationship.
When I'm snuggled down into the couch and don't physically have the energy to get up, I think about the amount of time I used to spend on the couch versus the amount of time I spent in the car and in the dance studio. It is vast. Then I can't help but think: Now this is for reals.
The couch.
It seems my energy level and the couch are in cahoots. There are days that I am not sick, I am not injured, I am not in the Twilight Zone, but I am physically unable to do much of anything but be on the couch doing various things. Might have something to do with low blood sugar (as my diet is constantly changing, I feel like I'm running to keep up with its new needs everyday), my slight anemia (already being treated for it), or just plain growing a human. While on the couch it's super fun to feel Mini's movement though, so not all is lost. It's like God is giving me these "no energy" days to have quiet moments to feel what she's up to.
Through these times, my green couch has become a good friend. However, friends can sometimes be dangerous if they get too close. Specifically, the couch seems to be the jealous type-- it physically sucks me into itself and won't let me get up. I'm thinking of hiring a psychotherapist to come over and talk to it about its issues.
It doesn't change the fact I need it though, so it's a complicated relationship.
When I'm snuggled down into the couch and don't physically have the energy to get up, I think about the amount of time I used to spend on the couch versus the amount of time I spent in the car and in the dance studio. It is vast. Then I can't help but think: Now this is for reals.
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