Week 32 will be remembered fondly simply because there won’t be anything to remember. There was no medical intervention. (I did have a check-up but it was completely uneventful). There were no strange illnesses, aches, pains or other. It was just about as “normal” as we get around here.
The back aches? Yes, they continued. The heartburn, there was some, but I don’t think I’ve reached for one of the five bottles of Tums I keep stashed everywhere in a few days. The bleeding? Well, that’s a dumb question, of course there was. The insomnia, achy, sleepless nights? Heck yes!
But for some reason, all of it felt manageable last week. Probably because it wasn’t compounded with a host of other problems.
I’m feeling bigger, so much bigger! At my check-up I measured 32cm, which is spot-on where I should be. I can’t imagine seven more weeks of growth. God help me! I’ve nicknamed myself “the moose.” I know I’m small, I’ve barely gained 30 pounds; 35 pounds is the recommended pregnancy weight gain. So I’m doing well. From behind, you’d never know I’m pregnant. But that doesn’t keep me from constantly slamming doors into my stomach b/c I have no grasp of how far out I now extend. My breasts have reached an unfathomable size. Short of those crazies on Jerry Springer with the breasts that look like yoga balls, I didn’t know it was possible for anything like this to appear in nature. This, I could live without. I want my Ds back.
The baby started getting hiccups this past week. That or the very white rythemless genes her father and I gave her mutated and she’s jammin’ away in there. It’s kind of funny the first five or six times I feel it thump, and then I’m like, “hold your head upside down, take a deep breath and drink some water”. In other words “stop!”. I’ve tried scaring here but that doesn’t seem to work either.
I continue to be an emotional train wreck and neither Shelton nor myself wants to live with me anymore. Last night as we were falling asleep I tried to celebrate a small victory that I hadn’t shed a tear in 24 hours… and then Shelton reminded me that I cried that morning in the kitchen. Well, I guess a 12 hour victory is still a victory.
We took our third of six birth classes. These are mildly (OK, incredibly) entertaining. The videos are so old and all of the delivering patients seem like 17-year-olds they would have found at the free clinic. I liked this one most because we spent the second hour touring the birthing center. We got to see the delivery room and the postpartum room (which I’ve had to stop calling the after birth room, sounds terrible!). We held forceps and I was COMPLETELY freaked out by the idea of the internal monitor. They want to STICK this wire into my unborn baby’s head. Hell no. So I feel better knowing where we’re headed when this little darling decides to make her debut.