I am, amazingly, 34 weeks along in this pregnancy. Like, knock me over with a feather.
I have now scheduled an OB appointment for every week leading up to my due date.
I’ve turned in the hospital registration forms.
JS and I have picked our hospital route (hint: there’s one!) and have a few options lined up for Xander-care.
A few weeks ahead of my previous pregnancy, I’ve also started getting false labor pain. The nice semi-regular, but not really consistent, painful, but not unmanageable, contractions that I had in the weeks leading up to his delivery. It’s putting us in quite the conundrum, here. If Xander had been a “normal” delivery, and not a child nearly born in the car or parking lot (no, really, JS had to coach me into NOT lying down in the parking lot at the hospital because I could FEEL THE BABY COMING OUT), it wouldn’t be as big of a deal. I’d wait, like most women, for the contractions to worsen and get closer together before even thinking much of it. But, Xander WASN’T a typical delivery. He came so fast. And this time, we don’t live where’s it’s mild year round. Yesterday was negative degrees. Negative! Like, below zero! It’s not worth the risk of waiting too long and not making it when it’s that cold out.
So my doctors have given me instructions to 1) call from the road en route to the hospital if my water breaks and 2) call them if I have any regular contractions (even 10 minutes apart) or ones that “have bite.” It SEEMS simple enough, yes, but of course, yesterday and last night had constant contractions that varied between Braxton Hicks vague tightening of the ol’ uterus, and a “huh, that kinda…yeah, that hurts….but it’s OK…”, and of course, spaced their timing out so that I could detect NO pattern and practically snapped JS’s head off when he offered to time them. “How? Time them how? They’re too irregular! GRRRR ARRRGGGG.” Or something.
Then, of course, I also went and freaked myself out by reading about complications with babies born at 34 weeks gestation and BAD IDEA PANTS!
Instead, today I finished collecting things for the hospital bag, threw it all together in the baby’s crib, moved the pack-and-play into our room, bought a frame for our irregularly sized Etsy artwork, and tried (and failed) to finish organizing her closet (baskets! I need some good baskets/bins! But not expensive! And I’d NORMALLY go to Target, but you know: VERMONT).
Anyway, I’m trying not to obsess over when Lady Baby will be born (as hard as that is to do), and just, you know, keep going day to day one step at a time let Go and let God sorta whatever nonsense seems to help. There’s no saying that this time will be like last time. I could go to 42 weeks (NOOOO) or I could be done at 36 (oh, yeah, did I mention I’m measuring a week ahead? After measuring a week behind in the first half? Mah babies like to save all their growin’ for the end).
Here are some cute nursery pictures, a belly shot, and whatever else I downloaded from my phone. You’re welcome.
(Nursery from the doorway.)
(From the other way…obviously going to replace my name with hers, and eventually we’ll put some of the extra crap away.)