End of the Ticker!

Am I really up to the last baby on that ticker up there? Why, I remember when it was just a little embryo with legs! It is satisfying to see that I am on that last baby. It justifies how how much pain I am in sometimes. And how nervous I am. And how almost nothing fits anymore- even my maternity clothes. I'm pretty stressed out. I would be okay if it was the normal end of pregnancy stress stuff. Or the normal holiday preparation stuff. Or the normal construction headache stuff. But everything combined is really getting to me. I'm just trying to control the things that I can and cope with the things that I can't. This means enjoying the positive parts of what's left of the pregnancy, doing as much holiday/post baby cooking that I can (or that my freezer can accommodate), and accepting the fact that my constant supervision and involvement can only go so far in the construction time line. We're almost there...

Case in Cup

Allow me to share with you a story from this morning’s doctor’s appointment that will illustrate the legitimacy of two common pregnancy complaints. The first is “pregnancy brain.” Not just an excuse for being flaky, there are scientific reasons for this phenomenon. The second complaint is that of frequent urination, due to a person constantly head-butting the pregnant woman’s bladder. I often complain that as soon as I stand up from using the bathroom I have to go again. This morning, I proved this to be no exaggeration. Here is what happened:

I went in for a regular check-up. The nurse and I chatted away while she took my weight and blood pressure. She was pregnant when I was pregnant with Lilah, and we ended up delivering our babies on the same day, just rooms apart in the hospital. So we have a nice little nurse-patient bond. At every appointment after she takes my weight and blood pressure (or sometimes before, depending on how long I’ve been waiting) I go to the bathroom to leave my urine sample. Today was no different. However, as soon as I finished using the bathroom I realized that I had totally forgotten about the sample. I was washing my hands and looking at the plastic cups and black marker and realized what I had done. I went over the options in my head: tell the doctor what happened and ask to try again after the appointment or just walk out and don’t worry about the sample this week, both of which would make me look like an idiot. Then it occurred to me that if I sat back down, I just might be able to try again. Lo, and behold, a mere few seconds after zipping up (er, pulling up my big old elastic-waisted maternity jeans) I had no trouble at all filling up that plastic cup.

Moral of the story: pregnant women’s brains and bladders truly do not function normally. But once in a while that may prove to be a good thing.

Weary Traveler

Synopsis of the past three weeks:

Packed for Charleston
Packed for home
Packed for Cleveland
Packed for home
Packed for Atlanta
Packed for home

The next suitcase I'm packing is my hospital bag.