So, it looks as though the expectation I had of posting once-a-week has been blown out of the water, and the best I can do is twice a month. Which, I suppose will have to do... considering that I've been so busy getting the house ready for Tweet and trying not to cry when I watch an ASPCA commercial that I've barely had time to update my Facebook status from Jaynee is going through The Daily Show withdrawals, to Jaynee just found ANOTHER grey hair... much less blog about my ever-expanding waist.
So, without further ado... I welcome you to Weeks 33-34.
The word for weeks 33 and 34 is: HORMONES
Really, it was a toss-up between hormones and nesting, until I started crying today for no good reason.
I mean, let there be no doubt that I'm in full nesting mode... in both personal and professional life. I've had more than a few bees in my bonnet these last 14 or so days. Including cleaning the windows and screens in the house, forcing Benny to spray the house for spiders since I saw one last week (and where there's one, you know there's about to be an all-out seige by our eight-legged enemies) and re-organizing and re-constituting the pantry and spice cabinet.
That's right... we have a spice cabinet. Who knew? The spices have been organized and moved to a cupboard that allows me to see that yes, we do have fennel seeds (whatever THOSE were bought for) AND cream of tartar. So, we're pretty much set for life. And Tweet can be assured of an attentive mother and father that don't have to worry about whether or not we have access to some Alum. You know... in case we come across an obscure recipe that actually calls for it. Assuming that by the time THAT happens, it hasn't expired. Does anyone know... can Alum expire? Better yet, does anyone know WHAT Alum is and WHY in the world we have it?
But, I digress.
At work, I've been in a bit of panic mode trying to get everything organized so that when I'm out of the office for three months or so, things don't blow up and no one can blame me when something does blow up. Kind of like what I do with the interns. I've been this way ever since my girl Bernee sent me an email congratulating me on making it to week 34. Something about when she said: "Just remember, I had my first at 32 weeks, and my next three at 36... so you could go at ANY time."... well, it kinda set me off.
There was something else in there about making sure I get a lot of rest and blah, blah, blah... but I really cannot comment on andy of that because my brain exploded right there in my office and I spent the rest of the day cleaning up grey matter.
The good news is that all my files are in order, I've caught up on the last of the reports that needed to be written and were my water to break today, the only thing I would be stressed about is the fact that OH, RIGHT... WE'RE HAVING A BABY. Well, that and the fact that the required bag-o-goodies for the hospital stay has yet to be packed. Probably because I can't bend over to get the bag out from under the bed.
So, yes... nesting has been front and center these last two weeks. But, the hormones (which I do believe are also involved in the nesting) pulled ahead in the voting the last week or so. And can I just state for the record that I could really do without the hormonal breakdowns? ARGH!
Don't get me wrong... I've always been one for a good cry now and then. It cleanses and resets the system. Much like Benny's after nap showers. But yesterday when I started crying because I was soooo tired and just couldn't fathom doing anything BUT crying... which made me cry some more? RIDICULOUS. I mean, there's emotional and then there's "Geez, Nadolski! Get it together!!!"
I think that week 33 really marked the point where I'm officially uncomfortable. Like... REALLY uncomfortable. I don't sleep well at night. Because I wake myself up to turn over from my left side to my right side. And then inevitably have to empty my bladder because, you know... it's been five minutes. How I long for a night of tossing and turning... when you can do so without grunting or waking your husband up to help roll you over so that you can start snoring on your right side, instead of your left.
Oh? Have I not mentioned? Apparently, I've taken up snoring this week. And by "taken up", I mean that if snoring was an Olympic sport? Gold medal, baby.
I didn't know I was snoring, but I did know that I've got a little drainage as I'm fighting a touch of a head cold right now. And, I knew that I was having a hard time breathing at night since my lungs are currently the size of a standard chicken nugget. The ones without the hormones. But it wasn't until Benny handed me his phone the next day and asked me to listen to the recording he'd made that I realized that this... this is no good. Because when I listened to it, I asked him where he'd recorded a frog in heat in a swamp, with a chorus of other frogs and the sound of a river running in the background.
And the sad part about that story? COMPLETELY TRUE. I had no idea what I was listening to was my own snoring... and Benny's own personal nightmare. No wonder I can't sleep at night. Perhaps I'm not actually waking up to turn over. Perhaps I'm waking up when I swallow my tongue and don't get any air? It's anyone's guess. Personally, I'm wondering when Benny's going to throw in the towel and move to the bedroom downstairs to get away from the snoring. Unless he's a glutton for punishment and really wants to experience the pregnancy.
This week, I've noticed an increase roundness in the belly... as well as an increased itchiness. And it really doesn't matter where I am or who I'm with. If the belly needs itching, the belly needs itching. And if you can't handle a pregnant woman scratching at her large belly? Well, then... I FEEL SORRY FOR YOU.
We did have a minor freak out last week... er, rather, I freaked out and Benny tried to be the voice of reason. If you can possibly imagine THAT scenario.
We went to our weekly check-up and I got the seasonal flu shot. That night, I didn't feel Tweet move even once. And she's usually quite the kicker around 9 p.m. But... NOTHING DOING. The Tweet was silent.
We had gone out with Shane, Krista, Supa, Dev and Emily(also known as The Skinny's) for some sushi at Sapa's in SLC and while everyone was laughing and having a good time... and at times touching Devin inappropriately just in time for a picture - because, really... how can you resist with that great beard of his? (see below)... all I could think was: The baby's not moving. The baby's not moving. The baby's not moving. OMG... the flu shot! The flu shot killed her!!!
Because, this is how a normal person reacts.
The next day, after she still hadn't moved by noon, I called the doc and left a message. And, of course, as soon as I hung up, Tweety kicked back to life and everything's been good since then. This morning, in fact, I was convinced that rather that have the whole labor and delivery process, Tweet was planning on clawing her way out of the womb and fully expected her hand to stick out through my belly as she made her way out. I'll take that over the no movement freak out any day.
Benny and I have been hitting the pool to get a workout in and I have to admit that I LURVE it. It's the only time that I feel weightless and I can stretch some muscles that haven't been stretched in weeks. In fact, I love it so much, I will disregard the meltdown I had at the pool last week when I got there and realized I didn't have my swimsuit. And do you have any idea of the drama that unfolded poolside with Benny when that little piece of information was spoken aloud for the first time? It was a Sunglasses On Indoors moment... so no one would see me crying. Of course, the loud sobs gave it away.
Luckily, cooler heads (Benny's) prevailed and he was able to give me some workout shorts he'd worn for Boot Camp that morning, and I was able to wear a tank top in the water so I could get my swim on. Benny also made sure that I was covered by a towel when I got in and out of the water... since the tank top was a teeny, TINY bit see-through.
We also rode our bikes in the monthly Critical Mass downtown. Oh... and by the way, while I support Critical Mass and what it aims to promote, I don't think I'll participate in the future. Not because I was offended by anyone's behavior. Not because I think that it's too big and should not be allowed on the road. No... I'm offended because even at 7 months pregnant, I still think that it's okay to go faster than 6 mph and yes, yes I WILL pass you even if we're only supposed to be two abreast. Because YOU'RE RIDING 6 MPH and even the most unfit pregnant chick can hit 14 mph easy. LET'S MOVE, GRANNY.
Benny kept telling me to slow down... that it wasn't a race. But c'mon... even if it's not a race, at least let's have some dignity here!!! Oh... and btw? EVERYTHING'S A RACE, BABE.
Yea... I don't know how he puts up with me either. But he does an awful good job of it. We ended up leaving the group after they headed back to the start and doing another lap to get our heart rates up... and then proceeded to cancel that out with a stop at Farr's Ice Cream... which just happened to be on the route.
Birthing classes started last week and I can't wait to fill you all in. Benny is by far the most excited Father-To-Be in there. As evidenced by his jumping up and volunteering to be first among the men to wear the maternity suit. He's been a great partner throughout this whole process and I can't wait to bring Tweet into the world to meet her Daddy.