Counting Down

Oh the contractions! That I have basically been having since twelve weeks. Okay, twelve might be an exaggeration, but shortly after twenty weeks is not far off the mark. Which is fine and all because, well, Braxton-Hicks and all that stuff, but ugh, now that I am nearing the end of pregnancy these "practice" contractions are torturing me.

Am I going into labor? Am I going into labor now? How about now? Are these getting stronger? Just go to sleep, Christine, for the love, and if you're in labor they'll wake you up! Clearly I'm not in labor. And that is actually a good thing since I'm only hitting the 37 week point this week, but it still doesn't stop me from obsessing almost every. single. night.

Obviously, I want this baby to come when she is ready, I just wish she could be one of those babies that are ready around 37 or 38 weeks. She's already got such a good track record for this pregnancy, passing my first glucose screening and all. I'm sure she wants to stay in Mommy's good graces. (Wink. Wink.)

We are pretty much ready, which I suppose means she won't come until August, because isn't that how these things work? And my doctor informed me that if there's no type of progress by forty weeks they are not allowed to induce me until forty-one weeks. (And if my previous pregnancies are any indication my body does not "make progress" until it is actually in labor. So, you know, I'm not really excited at the possibility of waddling around for another four and half weeks.)

Of course, I realize, there is nothing I can do but wait patiently (or not patiently, but either way I still have to wait), so I might as well end my rant. All these contractions do just make me want to spend the last several weeks of pregnancy in bed, preferably asleep, which I realize is not possible for various reasons (my children being one, my bursts of nervous nesting energy being another, and the fact that I'd never actually be able to sleep Rip Van Winkle Style for the next month, unfortunately.)

She will comes when she comes and then I will be exhausted and uncomfortable for other reasons, but I'll get to hold this sweet baby in my arms. Something I am anxiously waiting for.

(Nope. Still not in labor.)

xoxo, christine

Goodnight Storm Clouds

I love my bed. In fact, I'm pretty sure I have an unhealthy relationship with it. But let me tell you, as wonderful as it is, it is not comfortable with four people in it. Even if two of the people are little people.

We have had overnight thunderstorms the past couple of nights, which have led to two girls screaming and running to our bed at two or four in the morning. I can't really blame them, I remember being afraid of the loud thunder when I was a kid (and still am if the storm is severe), plus it's not exactly a pleasant way to wake up in the middle of the night. But, that still does not make for a good night of sleep.

Also, we've had one or the other girl in our bed for various reasons several nights leading up to to the stormy nights.

Generally we take the girls back to their beds because I have a really hard time sleeping with extra bodies in bed, but when it's due to thunder that doesn't stop all night, it's hard to get them back in their own space. On top of all this drama, I haven't slept well for pregnancy related reasons since, well, the beginning of time (or close to it).

In any case, you can imagine that we are feeling quite sleep deprived over here, which is why I envision today as rather unpleasant in our household.

I realize that this should all just be preparation for the sleep deprivation we are going to experience once our newest little bundle makes her appearance. Trust me, I have already had many panicky moments imagining how we will all survive once Mommy and Daddy are not getting adequate sleep.

I'm going to just go ahead and assume that somehow it will be okay and we will all survive without too many scars. Until then though, you can find me napping on the couch. Or my bed. Or the chair. Or wherever and whenever I can.

xoxo, (and zzzzzzz) christine

Dear Friend,

I am sorry if you have felt detached from me, or that I am neglecting our friendship. I assure you that this has not been intentional at all. In fact, I'm not sure what it is about me, that stops me from keeping up with you, because when I don't I feel incredibly lonely and sad. You would think that my loneliness would be enough to motivate me to be better about being in touch.

I'm sorry.

I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss your hugs. I miss hanging out with you. I miss being silly and laughing with you. I miss the way you get me in just the way only you can. I miss knowing what's going on in your life and hearing about the cute guy you tripped in front of, or the great deal you snagged on a new sweater, or the way your one-year-old laughed so hard milk came out his nose.

Please know that my lack of (or sporadic) communication in no ways reflects how much I care about you, how much you mean to me, how much I need you.

I wish that the thought of a telephone call didn't leave me feeling overwhelmed and breathless. I wish that I could go back to those teenage years of being so comfortable on the phone that it's like an added appendage. I wish that I was a better letter writer, email updater, and phone conversationalist. I wish I could remind myself that I don't need a three-hour window of time to chat with you, even a quick two-minute hello is enough.

I want you to know that I think of you often. I want you to know that you are important to me, even if I have a horrible way of showing it. I want you to know that I appreciate your friendship and am here for you, even if it's been ages since we last spoke.

I want you to know that I miss you.

My dear friend, you have a special place in my heart. Always. And I just wanted to make sure that you knew that.

xoxo, christine

It's Go Time, People (A Late Pregnancy Freak-out of Sorts)

We are now entering what I am going to assume is the "nesting" stage of pregnancy. Or, as more accurately described, the I-am-laying-in-bed-at-midnight-and-can't-fall-asleep-because-of-all-the-things-that-need-to-be-done-and-how-will-it-all-get-done-and-it-must-be-done-THISMINUTE-who-cares-if-it's-approaching-one-in-the-morning. (Because obviously the walls need to be washed, new pacifiers need to be purchased, and clothes need to be washed in Dreft and put away EXACTLYATTHISMOMENT because if it doesn't get done at one in the morning when I'm thinking about it, it's clearly not getting done at all.)

Even though I've been pregnant a number of times, I don't think I've ever actually had a nesting instinct, so I can't be certain that this is actually just major head-exploding-freaking-out anxiety or if, it is in fact, this so-called nesting, but nesting sounds so much better, wouldn't you say? So I'm just going to go ahead with that.

With all my middle of the night worrying, you'd think I'd be much more productive during the day. Yet somehow between the Nesting Anxiety, the Baby Name Anxiety (oh, I haven't mentioned that yet?), and the I Can't Sleep Because I'm So Uncomfortable Non-anxiety, I am hardly sleeping so instead of waking up with enough enthusiasm to tackle the world! (or just my Baby Preparation To Do List), I am groggy and irritable and nobody talk to me at least until lunch time.

Yes, it's a good thing that I'm currently thirty-three weeks pregnant instead of say, thirty-nine because the reality is we have plenty of time. There's also the reality of most of this stuff doesn't even need to be done. We can have a baby (and even bring her home) without any of this "urgent" stuff getting done.

(Aside from getting a new car and infant car seat. -- Oh, did I fail to mention that too? Our two choices of vehicles currently consist of our eleven-year-old little red car that has no air conditioning and no space for three kids in the back seat or our seventeen-year-old Honda which also has questionable backseat space for three kids in booster/car seats and up until recently was running okay but decided its end time has come and sits in our driveway with nary a purr when we try turning the key.)

Do I sound like I might have grounds for a panic attack???

I promise I'm not really going crazy, it's just end-of-pregnancy hormones and "nesting instinct" as I'm going to say. But, wow, this is all new to me because, although I remember feeling the need to be prepared for Hope and Paige's arrivals, I don't ever remember feeling this desperate need to get shit done, like, yesterday.

So, now that I've gotten all that off my chest I'm going to go. I have some baby clothes to organize, furniture to move, and lint to pick off the rug.

xoxo, christine