Bump Watch - Weeks 35-36

Really.... at this point, can we still call it a "Bump" Watch? Or should we give it a more fitting name? Like... Whale Watch? Lay-Off The Doritos Watch? Or, Remember When It Was Just A Bump Watch?

The last two weeks have been probably my least favorite of the whole experience. The first eight months of this pregnancy? Cake. With frosting. Of which I had not one, not two but THREE times at different baby showers that friends and family have thrown for us since August. And, yes... a full report on all three are upcoming. I'm just trying to find a pic amongst the many that were taken at the parties that doesn't include me breathing through my mouth, shoving a whole piece of cake into my mouth (while breathing through my mouth), or the bump obscenely featured in the pic... whether I wanted it to be or not. But, I guess that's what the parties were for, no? A celebration of the bump? And, by the way... I may have some of the greatest friends in the world for showing up to the showers. I mean, trust me... I KNOW that going to a baby shower loses its appeal after you're 18 - or, after you've been to 18 - so I was grateful to those who showed up to share in our excitement. Seriously... I think I've finally figured out why girls rock and realize that I actually have a lot of girlfriends. MUCH TO MY SURPRISE!!! Thank you, everyone!

But, I digress... where was I? The first eight months of pregnancy have been low-key. And even though in the last few posts I may have led you all to believe that I've been freaking out and having a meltdown every other day, that's not exactly true. That may have just been me exaggerating for a good story. Who woulda thunk it??? Although, the story about my meltdown in Babies-R-Us? Completely true. I will own it, as I believe that whenever you do truly lose your mind, you have to be held accountable.

And as smooth as the first 8 months have gone... as quickly as they have flown by for both Benny and I... I have to say that the last week? THE LONGEST IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

I've had plenty of friends who have had children and without fail, no matter if they had an easy pregnancy or not, I remember all of them saying the same thing about the final month of pregnancy. Time slows down. You start to really feel the pregnancy. You just want it to be over. Blah, blah, blah.

And I have to admit that whenever I heard them talk like that, I would appropriately sympathize with them (to their faces) while thinking to myself: Please. It's just one more month. How hard can that possibly be? I mean, you can do ANYTHING for a month. After eight months, what's one more?

What's one more? I'll tell you what one more is:

• More snoring, less caring that you're snoring.

• More waking up to ankles the size of your hip and toes the size of Wrangler Hot Dogs. The ones that plump when you cook them. Oh, they're cooked alright. They're. Cooked.

• More experiencing a pain in your booty whenever you sit on your office chair for more than 5 minutes.

• More wanting to punch the next person who tells you that most first-timer's don't deliver until at least five days past their due date. Which is a lovely thought. REALLY. Tell me some more about how I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER.

• More heavy breathing... and not the good kind. This heavy breathing is because your lungs are the approximate size of a pea. And your nose is stuffy. And swollen.
  

• More not fitting into your maternity clothes anymore, but not wanting to shop for any more because you only have four more weeks and because the changing rooms HAVE MIRRORS.

• More putting up with every woman - friend, foe, complete stranger - who feels the need to share with you her labor and delivery HORROR story. Because, look at me. Right now, I look like a woman who's totally calm about the whole thing. Better take me down a notch.

• More acne showing up randomly when you've had a relatively acne free pregnancy.

• More falling asleep each lunch break to Judge Alex, less caring that people know I actually watch Judge Alex at lunch.

• More acid reflux. Because five months of it isn't quite enough.

• More needing your husband to roll you out of bed in the middle of the night so you can use the restroom. Five times a night.

*Ahem*

In the good news area, I am so completely on top of everything on work, that I truly don't know what to do with myself in the office right now. I'm literally out of things to do, as I've cleared my calendar so well in preparation for the possibility of an early delivery (which, according to every woman in the free world is simply not possible and I might not give birth until week 45). But it is a huge help to my psyche to know that if the stars align and were I to go into labor this very second, no one at work would be put out too much. Oh sure... if something goes wrong while I'm gone, I fully expect to be blamed... that's what I would do if I were in there shoes. But knowing that I've done everything I need to do before maternity leave? Priceless. All I have to do is make it through this week of work, which includes two days of meetings in Park City, and it will be all downhill work-wise for me. And that's how I like both my marathons and my work!!!

Also in the good news department, Benny and I completed our birthing class last week and we feel just about as prepared as first-timers can possibly feel.

This week, Benny and I also got to see the Tweeter again. We had our 36 week appointment which included an ultrasound to check the position of the baby, and two required violations of my body. Really... I can't wait for labor and delivery and the soon-to-come violations. I had to go home and shower after the appointment. You can imagine how well I'm going to deal with being in the stirrups for hours when the Tweeter is born. Yowza.

Anyhoo, currently Tweet is head down right on top of my bladder... which explains the need to get up every 90 minutes to head to the restroom and pray for a miracle in that I actually will have urine to expel this time. Also, her cute little booty is shoved up against the right side of my rib cage and her legs are tucked on the left side of the uterus. She's constantly moving right now... so I guess there goes our hope for a chillaxy baby that doesn't really do a lot other than eat, sleep and poop until she's five, when she can then go to kindergarten and be the smartest kid in the school. Look at that?? Four weeks to go and already my dreams have been shattered for my child's future. Cuz that's how I roll right now, mkay?

This weekend was the big Mountain-2-Metro/X-Terra National Championship/Harvest Moon Festival here in Ogden. And yes... all of that went on at the exact same time and Benny and I were in the thick of it. We both volunteered for the Goal Foundation on Friday. Benny did a lot of set-up and I got to do body marking for all of the athletes. And let me tell you about those X-Terra pro's. They are no. joke. Hard-bodies... all of them. Which, when you're 8 months prego can make you feel a wee-bit LOSER-ish, and you can't help but accidentally-on-purpose knock them over with your big belly. Because what are they going to do? Get mad at the pregnant chick? Please.

As we were leaving the park after volunteering all day, we noticed a guy who had a 6-foot boa constrictor and was letting people hold it. Because, that's normal, right? It's a Friday... better take the boa constrictor to the park in case some pregnant chick there wants to freak out her husband.

Even more normal, I suppose, is the fact that a small brown spider on the wall will leave me in tears just for existing... but snakes? No big deal. A 6-foot boa constrictor? "Yea, hi! Can I hold it for a bump watch picture? THANKS!"

36 Weeks!

Tweet, meet Steve the Snake. Steve, meet Tweet. And Steve, I know you can smell Benny's fear from 6-feet away. It's not you. It's him. Well, it's him seeing his wife with a boa wrapped around her neck. And not the feathery kind.