Friday, March 20, 2009
Week 37 and a half
Says the doctor this morning: "She doesn't seem to be in any kind of hurry to leave."
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Week Thirty Seven
Congratulations to Nubby on attaining full terminess! As of this week a totally viable human being in her own right with no growing left to do in the remaining weeks save for packing on the chub. That means after this week, she will no longer be named Nubby, but Freeloader.
Official State of My Body Address: My feet are killing me. My hip hurts. My back hurts. My clothes don't fit and I can't fasten my bras due to the fact that there's a baby in my ribcage.
But, what are you gonna do? I just remind myself that it'll all be over in a couple weeks and will come with the greatest reward. Also, this is my last week working in the office, so after tomorrow, I don't even have to get dressed anymore till it's time to go to the hospital.
I feel like we're about as baby ready as we can be at this point, but that doesn't stop me from worrying and fretting over every detail. The nursery is complete (I really do mean to take some pictures) and the car seat is installed and inspected. I have a half packed bag in the closet and, since I figure that being at home with a new baby is a lot like being stuck in the aftermath of a hurricane, I have stocked the pantry with many extra dry goods. And still, despite evident and physical proof of all kinds of readiness, I cannot get over my overwhelming desire to SHOP. For BABY things. It's an evil industry propelled by pure, unadulterated cute. I have been to two consignment sales in the last two weekends and it's almost every day that I'm looking at some website or another for teeny tiny things that I'm sure I don't need. The only thing that really saves me is the fact that I am both miserly and bad at making up my mind. Still. No more shopping till after she gets here. I swear.
Official State of My Body Address: My feet are killing me. My hip hurts. My back hurts. My clothes don't fit and I can't fasten my bras due to the fact that there's a baby in my ribcage.
But, what are you gonna do? I just remind myself that it'll all be over in a couple weeks and will come with the greatest reward. Also, this is my last week working in the office, so after tomorrow, I don't even have to get dressed anymore till it's time to go to the hospital.
I feel like we're about as baby ready as we can be at this point, but that doesn't stop me from worrying and fretting over every detail. The nursery is complete (I really do mean to take some pictures) and the car seat is installed and inspected. I have a half packed bag in the closet and, since I figure that being at home with a new baby is a lot like being stuck in the aftermath of a hurricane, I have stocked the pantry with many extra dry goods. And still, despite evident and physical proof of all kinds of readiness, I cannot get over my overwhelming desire to SHOP. For BABY things. It's an evil industry propelled by pure, unadulterated cute. I have been to two consignment sales in the last two weekends and it's almost every day that I'm looking at some website or another for teeny tiny things that I'm sure I don't need. The only thing that really saves me is the fact that I am both miserly and bad at making up my mind. Still. No more shopping till after she gets here. I swear.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
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