The bloating seems to have calmed down a bit. I have taken to laying down more during the day, and that seems to help. I have been having more contractions, but they continue to be sporadic and not at all painful. I still feel lots of movement, and the baby definitely feels like it’s getting bigger. As I attempt to be patient, I keep thinking about how all my questions will soon be answered: sex, weight, length, birth day, birth time, how long labor will take. In the meantime, I am mentally planning my post-birth feast, which must include hard salami. Oh, how I will relish having my bladder back! And my stomach shall accommodate normal sized meals again! I know I know I am making deals with the devil by wishing to trade these things for the precious sleep that everyone insists I won’t get ever again. But I am so OK with that.

Seriously, though, my maternity clothes are getting tight. I thought it would be more miserable to be super pregnant in the summer because of the heat, but now I’m thinking if it were summer, I could wear loose, flowing skirts and flip-flops. Winter demands pants and proper shoes, neither of which fits very well any more. Even my shirts are starting to look too short to obscure the belly panels on my jeans. I think the whole concept of losing modesty in labor is really just facing the fact that there are no clothes that fit you anymore. Who wears clothes when they’re this pregnant unless they have to?

It occurred to me the other day that we are not meant to do this alone. I can’t imagine being pregnant by myself. It’s not that I can’t walk the dogs, or do the laundry, or make a living (or tie my shoes!). It’s that it’s so much easier if my husband does those things for me. Thank god I don’t have to face the stairs of our third-floor walk-up more than absolutely necessary. While I feel conflicted about wanting to be taken care of and being independent and self-sufficient and all that good feminist stuff, at the end of the day, pregnancy is hard on the body, and it’s exhausting. I’m glad I don’t have to do everything myself. I gladly accept the help that my husband offers. I may worry endlessly about our finances, but I am so lucky to be able to work from home if I want, or take a nap in the middle of the day if I need to. I will take every seat on the train that is offered. My husband can carry all my bags. I will take every extra day at home after the birth that I can get away with and still keep our business running. A baby changes everything, but shouldn’t it?

However, I am totally feeling a second (third? fourth?) wind going into these last few weeks. As physically uncomfortable as it is making me, I want Cletus to stay in there a while longer. I can finally count down the weeks till my due date one one hand. It has been exactly eight months since my last period. I can handle a bit more waiting. And since I was told at our last check-up that Cletus is average-sized, I am not afraid that waiting will yield a monster baby. (Darien maintains that it would be cool if we had a 10-pounder, but I am not convinced that is a goal worth striving for.)

Alas, the tree is now bare and all the decorations have been put away until next year. Christmas is really for children, don’t you think? Normally, I would mourn the end of the holidays knowing that we have several months of bleak, dark winter ahead, but this year we have so much to look forward to. We’ll have our little one in a few short weeks. My brother-in-law and his wife are expecting in June. My closest cousin will be wed in October. It will be a year of newness and adventure.

Cletus continues to make his presence known. He seems to be settled in on my left side. I think because my torso is so short, he doesn’t have enough room to put his feet up under my ribs. Instead, his little feet kick out to my right side. Sometimes it feels so far towards my back I wonder where my internal organs have gone. Shouldn’t there be a kidney or something there? Occasionally, I feel little fists down near my right hip, usually when I’m sitting or leaning over. Most noticeable is his cute baby butt, which sits right at the top of my uterus. That’s usually how we find him.

After I put away the Christmas things yesterday, I indulged my nesting instinct and began to clean and organize the rest of the apartment. I packed up the broken crib (I expect the new one to arrive Monday). I cleared out one side of the cabinets by our bed and made that the baby section. I made a book section, which also houses our birth supplies for now, a diapering station with room (hopefully) for the full complement of clean diapers, then separated the rest of our stuff into three drawers: sling, bath, and bedtime; clothes; and toys. Over the past few days, in addition to making Bacon, I also finished making our cloth wipes, so those are tucked into the diapering shelf, too. Half of them were washed last week, and the second half will be cleaned this weekend. I just need to write our name on them so we can drop them in with our diapers and have a good chance of getting them returned to us by the diaper service.

I dusted, vacuumed, steam cleaned the floors, organized the desk, filed papers, sorted through the dog supplies, tidied up our closets, organized our tools, and neatened up my knitting supplies. I even tightened the screws on our self-assembled furniture. I may have overdone it, as I’m definitely feeling a little sore today, but now I feel like I would be OK with a baby being in this apartment. We have done a lot of reading. Been to hours of childbirth classes (The first of our class had their baby on the 28th!). Kept monthly prenatal appointments. Tried to be diligent about our diet. I’ve taken my vitamins and probiotics. I’ve exercised. We planned this pregnancy. We researched birth. This is a highly anticipated, already loved baby. I think we’re as ready as you can ever be to become parents for the first time.

Now, I think I can allow work to occupy my time and brain space while Cletus decides when he’s ready to meet us. Tax season is coming up, you know, and who wants to deal with taxes when there’s a newborn to attend to? I know what I’ll be doing over the next few weeks.

That’s Sir Francis Bacon to you. He was my holiday knitting project. I just need a pipe cleaner to give him a curly tail, and then he’ll be all set to hang out with Radish (and Dora and Cletus, of course). Happy New Year, everyone!

Cletus, I’m really looking forward to the day when you won’t be Cletus anymore because that will be the day you will no longer be inside me, and you’ll have a real name. You’re getting bigger by the day, and it feels like it. You’re moving an awful lot, which I know means you’re doing just fine in there, but you’re squishing all my important organs. It’s harder to do pretty much everything these days, and we still have a few more weeks to go. However, despite my discomfort, I have happily discovered that I am having occasional Braxton-Hicks contractions, so I guess my uterus isn’t a dud, and it’s getting ready for the work ahead.

We broke down and bought a car seat yesterday because we know we need one, even though we hate the idea of having one. Does it make us bad parents if we got the cheapest one we could find? Since we don’t have a car, taxis don’t require them, and we aren’t planning to use it with a stroller, it will only be used on longer trips, and not that often. I assume they wouldn’t be selling something that’s unsafe, but it’s probably not the comfiest thing you’ll ever sit in.

We also met with the pediatrician who will probably be your doctor. She seems pretty nice, though young. The office is brand new, and is bright and friendly. Just one of the many decisions we’ve had to make lately.

We have clothes washed, diapers ordered, books, and toys. We almost have a crib, but it came damaged, so we’re working on getting it replaced. It will be 2012 in just a few days, and then I think it will start to feel like your birthday is getting really close. In the meantime, I am trying to keep myself busy and work at least a little bit every day, even though I’d rather be at home knitting cute things for you, or figuring out how to rearrange the apartment to accommodate all the new stuff we’ve accumulated.

Since we have much of the big stuff ordered or decided, I am feeling much calmer and more prepared for your arrival. But, of course, there are so many unanswered questions about when that will be, and how it will go. It’s a mystery! What interesting days lie ahead for us all.

Also, Joseph may have been pretty saintly for accepting the whole immaculate conception scenario, but he gets docked some serious points for making his wife ride into town on a donkey when she was full term.

Even singing at our holiday party couldn't quite get me in the spirit of the season.

It wasn’t feeling a lot like Christmas last week. We had our tree up. We had a stack of packages waiting to be opened. The advent calendar was counting down. And yet, I wasn’t in the mood. This is the first Christmas in several years when I wasn’t scheduled to sing, and we weren’t planning to visit any family. I began to regret our decision to stay home and have Christmas for two. The balmy weather wasn’t helping much, either.

It just didn’t feel right. I was in a bit of a funk for a few days around our anniversary anyway. I think I was mourning the “us” that is and was and has been for the past 13 years. Although I am eagerly awaiting the Cletus’s birth, I know our lives will never be the same. As I get bigger and bigger, it is harder to ignore and pretend that things aren’t already different. Change is come, and what is ahead is perhaps the biggest unknown of our life together so far. I think it beats out moving to a new city, adopting two beagles, and even starting our own business.

A few days before Christmas, we decided we would get a zipcar and surprise my family on Christmas morning. I think we got the last available car on the island. On Christmas Eve, Darien decided to make us a festive meal of lamb, since that’s what his family typically eats at Christmastime. We enjoyed watching Die Hard (set on a Christmas Eve back in the 80s), ate our intimate feast, took a nap, and headed over to church for midnight mass.

There was a beautiful prelude, and a very satisfying service. I was starting to feel the Christmas spirit. We hopped on the bus and the train to pick up the car, packed up the beagles and the gifts, and headed to MD. Even Jews and atheists had better things to do at 3 a.m. than drive on the NJ turnpike, so aside from the fatigue, the drive was easy. We arrived at my parents’ house shortly before 8 a.m. and gave them the best Christmas gift we could think of. We ate far too many cookies, took several much-needed naps, opened presents, and were very glad that we were spending the holiday with loved ones.

We spent our anniversary roaming around the city pretending to be independently wealthy. That meant taking the day off work and basically working our way from meal to meal. We decided that even if we win the lottery (which we don’t even play), we would still want to work and do what we do. What does one do all day if one doesn’t have a job because you have more money than you know what to do with? (If we had a kid already, I’m sure our day would have gone differently, and we probably wouldn’t have been so bored with the idea of not doing something productive because child rearing is pretty damned productive.)

We had a leisurely morning eating breakfast and reading the newspaper. We took a stroll through Rockefeller Center to see the big Christmas tree. We had a light lunch at French Roast. We found a cool bookstore as we were looking for a place to buy our friend a flask. We bought said flask  and had it engraved. We couldn’t stop ourselves from going to the office for a short bit (so much for the suspension of disbelief). We went to a tiny bakery that sells amazing, gigantic cookies and ate half of said cookies. We visited our friends and their new baby, who all seem to be doing well. We finished the evening with dinner at a restaurant in our neighborhood that I’ve always been curious about. It was a lovely, but curious day. It seems each week brings something of note since everything we do is tempered by the fact that it will likely be the last time we do it just the two of us, before we meet Cletus.

Speaking of Cletus, there is still plenty of movement happening. Apparently, I’ve topped out on amniotic fluid, so there’ll be more baby than fluid from now on. He remains ROA, which is fine with me. I just hope he turns the right way during labor, not the loooong way around. My body continues to thwart my attempts to get much restful sleep. I had to resort to an afternoon nap at the office yesterday. It seems I can only sleep in the middle of the day, and not in my bed. Unfair. All anyone can talk about when I mention this development is how little sleep I’ll get once the baby is here. Knowing that doesn’t help me sleep better.

Stairs have become my nemesis, and there are a lot of stairs in my life. We live in a third floor walkup, and we take the subway everywhere. You do the math. Even a slight uphill grade can make me tired at this point. I avoid certain blocks entirely for this reason. I can’t wait until I can walk at a normal pace again, much less take a little jog somewhere. I never rush anymore. I leave plenty of time to get places because I refuse to run (ha!) for lights or trains. Is this my lesson in patience and slow living?

I am ever so slightly jealous that my friend is getting skinnier and skinnier as I get bigger by the day because she’s not pregnant anymore. Thank goodness I will have a baby at the end of this, too. It makes holding her little one such a pure joy, not a source of envy. However, I discovered that holding a baby when your belly is gigantic is kind of tricky. I have nostalgia for the second trimester, when I reaped the benefits of showing, but was still pretty mobile and could sometimes almost forget I was pregnant. As I get bigger, I feel more and more like just a pregnant person, and less and less like anything else. It is harder to focus on anything except the big day. As for ignoring my due date, forget it. All these weeks of counting, and it is damned near impossible to not be fixated on that one final week.

Showered: belly measuring game

I awoke last weekend feeling like I was not. ready. not ready at all. Since my aunt very kindly threw me a shower over Thanksgiving, we have much more than we used to, but I still felt that Cletus was destined to end up in a drawer if we didn’t start to do some serious planning and shopping. Darien made a spreadsheet, and we took inventory of our baby supplies. Then we spent the day organizing and updating our registry, and supplementing our stash. We ordered our crib, diaper service, and birth kit, and bought a ring sling and a few other basics like some onesies. We’ve got enough of the essentials so that I feel more prepared, and when we’re one month out we can buy the rest of the stuff on our list and get our completion discount. We still need that damned car seat, after all. I figure as long as we have enough clothes and diapers to get us through a week, we’ll be fine. I know babies grow fast, but I really can’t think about the next stage right now. I am focusing on getting through the first week, the first month.

Christmas will be different this year. We are staying home, so it will be just the two of us. I am glad we’re not traveling, but I miss our family. Yet, I don’t have to sing, so that is a huge blessing. We are planning to go to midnight mass at the church we will probably join soon. I am looking forward to the music. Will we be dealing with Santas and new traditions in a year?

We bought our tree today. In my family, we always got a new ornament every year. Or we made them. Or both. My mom gave me all my ornaments when I got married, so now our tree is filled with memories from my childhood. We have a few ornaments from the year we were married, but I guess next year we’ll have to start up the tradition again as we celebrate our first Christmas as a family.

Looking back through the years inspires not a few chuckles. There are some very sad looking kiddie creations. Some really cute ones, and this, my daycare masterpiece and a shining symbol of why my husband loves me:

I wish I had my brother’s for comparison. His is a hilarious pile of gold-colored spaghetti, sticking out every which way, with no order, but full of energy and the joy of kid crafting. I could never make a star like that. Mine is orderly and neat, and it frustrates me every year because it is incomplete. They made me “finish” it before I was ready. I guess there was a time limit on when they were spray painting, but it wasn’t done! Alas, this precision and need for everything to be done right has followed me my whole life, and it’s one of the reasons my husband loves me. So, there it sits, atop our lovely little tree. Incomplete, but so very me.

Like all live performances, there were a few things I wish had gone better, but it was a really lovely experience. It’s always nice coming home to the church where I grew up. The people are so welcoming, and it feels comfortable and safe. There was much talk of how appropriate it was that a pregnant woman sang the “Ave Maria” during Advent, the season of anticipation of the birth of Christ. Honestly, the symbolism, however blatant, was mostly lost on me until afterwards because I was struggling simply to breathe and not be toppled by the tension in my back.

Interestingly, Cletus was actively kicking me during rehearsals, but was pleasantly well-behaved in concert. I had visions of my belly bulging wildly during my solo, but I guess Cletus is getting a head start on music appreciation. Maybe by the third day he was just used to all the ruckus and the abdominal movement created by my breathing and diaphragmatic support.

Since the smorgasbord that was Thanksgiving, there have been a few physical developments. Aside from my ever-growing belly, my stomach has simply run out of room. I ate too much over the holiday, as one is wont to do, and upon returning home, I found that I could no longer eat normal sized meals. If I overdo it, I get a major case of heartburn. Additionally, it seems the word on the street about how your rib cage expands is a truism. I tried on the dress that we bought back in October, hoping it would work as my concert attire, and found that I wasn’t even close to getting it zipped. I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised, considering I’m now wearing my bras on the loosest clasp settings and still sometimes feel like I’m being constricted. Good thing I brought back-up options. I ended up wearing a simple black dress that was plenty stretchy. I also discovered maternity hose, which I am vowing to wear forever more. Not that I typically wear hose, but when I do, I am totally wearing the maternity variety. They don’t pinch in your skin at the top, making you all gross and bulgy and ruining the line of your clothing. Everything maternity is so comfy!

I am also forever parched. I am sucking down water constantly, but my lips are always chapped. I’m not sure if this is because it’s getting drier as it gets colder and the radiators are notorious for making excessively dry heat, or if my body is kicking into high gear making more blood and all those extra fluids I’ll supposedly have by the time Cletus is fully cooked. Either way, I can’t seem to get hydrated.

My friend had her baby on Saturday. (I get to meet her tonight!) There’s this whole new human being now, and she is not pregnant any more. It makes my baby seem more real somehow. This is happening. There will be a little person at the end of this swelling and stretching and waddling. I can count the weeks left on two hands. I’m already struggling not to fixate on my due date, and having a hard time accepting that Cletus might decide to camp out until well past it. The weeks that once passed so slowly, then seemed to fly by, are starting again to feel cumbersome and drawn out. I think December will pass quickly because of the holidays, but I fear January will crawl by. Yet, there is still plenty to be done. There are things to buy, and a pediatrician to find. There is a business to run, and a few precious months of coupledom to cherish. There are beagles to walk and feed and cuddle, and an apartment to clean and organize. There are taxes to be paid. There are gifts to make or buy and send. There are muscles to be strengthened and exercised. There is calcium and iron and protein to consume. There are decisions to be made, and plans to assess. There is life and life and life to keep living.

I vacillate between the awe and beauty of what’s happening inside me, and crashing down to earth when confronted by the realities of building a tine human. I visited the chiropractor last week, and he asked me when I am due. I told him, and he said, “You’re going to get huge!” Yes, sir, yes, I am. Ten more weeks, ten more pounds. More or less.

27 weeks

I had another great check-up on Monday. I was thinking the other day about the stories I have read about women who have had hospital births and then they go for midwifery care for the second babies. I can’t imagine doing it in that order. As a first-time mom, I need all the support and reassurance I can get, and I get it in spades with Kimm. Every time we meet with her I feel better. I feel reassured, I feel confident, I feel like everything will be fine.

My weight gain is good. My belly measurement is on track. My glucose test was normal. The baby was facing head down and to my left, and I’m doing everything I can to encourage it to stay that way, even though I know it’s still a few weeks before I lock it in. (And boy, is Cletus taking the opportunity to stretch his little self. He is moving a LOT lately.) She said she would map it next time because it is still a little early, and my tummy is so taut that it is a little hard to feel all the parts (it’s still tiny, only around 2 lbs at this point). She tried to show us both how to tell the difference between the butt and the back. I’m not sure I really felt it, but I pretended I did. What is it about babies’ butts that are so darned cute? The idea of her being able to feel a butt just made me smile.

However, she is not so good with drawing blood. I’ve always been a tricky stick, but it really sucks to have someone digging around in your arm. Fortunately, she didn’t persist and instead sent me to a lab where they do it all the time. One try and it was done. It took me way longer to walk there and back than it did for her to actually take my blood. I love it when things work the way they’re supposed to. Hopefully my iron is OK.

* * * * *

We had birth story week at class, and a couple who also worked with Kimm came with one of the most adorable babies I have seen in person. They had to transfer after 50 hours of laboring at home because the baby was asymmetrically engaged and the contractions never picked up to the point where she was progressing. But the went with a good attitude, she only needed a little bit of pitocin, and had a vaginal birth after 62 hours of labor. Unfortunately, there were some minor complications with the baby that kept him there for four days, but they worked hard to breastfeed and stay with him, and they are all fine now. As I said, cutest baby ever, and I’m sure he doesn’t remember or care that he had to be in a hospital for the first few days of his life.

It was useful to hear again how transfers can happen, and they can be good and fine and it doesn’t mean you’re going to have a bad birth. I’m not sure everyone in our class can accept that you can’t control everything. There is one couple in particular who seems to feel very embattled. They want to deliver at the birth center, and they are really freaking out about what happens if they have to go to L&D instead. I hope they can relax a little, and I hope for their sake, and the L&D staff, that their baby doesn’t decide to camp out past the cutoff date. But, babies will pick their own birthdays when given the chance, so we shall see. They are due on Christmas day.

* * * * *

I had another birth dream last night. I had a birth tub and my parents, but we were at a hotel for some unknown reason. I neglected to tell Darien and his mom that I was in labor. I ended up having a precipitous, unassisted birth that was totally fine and easy. Then we got cleaned up and went out to eat. The baby transformed into a cell phone, and I couldn’t figure out how to make it turn back into a baby. I was very upset because I realized then that I had forgotten to try to breastfeed. Darien and his mom were upset that there were not there for the birth. It was all very confusing and weird. Was it a robot baby? I don’t even remember if it was a boy or a girl. Why were we in a hotel, not at home or a hospital? Why did I think going out to eat immediately sounded like a great idea? How could I forget to call my husband? Why am I having so many of these dreams? Oh, baby, I will be so glad when you’re on the outside. I won’t have less anxiety, but at least I’ll have better control of my body.

* * * * *

Next week is our last class already! The time has really flown by. I can’t believe Thanksgiving is next week. I got a reminder to make a dentist appointment the other day. The last time I had a check-up was before I was pregnant. And the next time I get my teeth cleaned, there will be a tiny human living in my apartment. I have an end-of-year tax appointment scheduled, and I’ve already received an invitation to a holiday party. As a matter of fact, we’re planning an event at the office right now. Advent always passes in a hurry, and then we’re already at 2012. Our friends’ baby could be born any day now. When you’re counting in weeks and whole people coming into the world, time adds up fast.

28 weeks tomorrow. 9-14 weeks until we meet Cletus. I’m starting to wonder where all that baby left to grow is going to go. I used to think I might have one of those cute basketball bellies, but I’m much broader than that. My belly button is threatening to poke out. It’s getting pretty difficult to tie my own shoes. I’m having more trouble than ever comprehending how this mom ran a marathon 9 months pregnant since walking to the subway sometimes makes me feel like I need to take a nap. And although I’ve read plenty of birth stories and watched birth movies, I looked down at myself this morning and wondered how this baby is coming out of there. Seriously, Mother Nature?!